The Fir-Tree Poem by Josephine Preston Peabody
The Fir-Tree
The winds have blown more bitter
Each darkening day of fall;
High over all the house-tops
The stars are far and small
I wonder, will my fir-tree
Be green in spite of all?
O grief is colder—colder
Than wind from any part;
And tears of grief are bitter tears,
And doubt’s a sorer smart!
But I promised to my fir-tree
To keep the fragrant heart.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
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4/19/2024 7:14:39 PM # 1.0.0.1119
