Uploaded on May 9, 2012
The tree’s early leaf buds were bursting their brown:
“Shall I take them away?” said the frost, sweeping down.
“No, dear; leave them alone
Till blossoms here have grown,”
Prayed the tree, while it trembled from rootlet to crown.
The tree bore its blossoms, and all the birds sung:
“Shall I take them away?” said the wind, as it swung.
“No, dear; leave them alone
Till berries here have grown,”
Said the tree, while its leaflets quivering hung.
The tree bore its fruit in the midsummer glow:
Said the girl, “May I gather thy berries or no?”
“Yes, dear, all thou canst see;
Take them, all are for thee,”
Said the tree, while it bent its laden boughs low.
—Björnstjerne Björnson
translated by Professor Palmer
Favorite Poems Old and New
edited by Helen Ferris
05.09.2024: There’s something about this image that makes it special for me.