the birds, and in the red clouds
that went sailing over him morning and evening.

When it was winter, and the snow lay all around, white and sparkling, a
hare would often come jumping along, and spring right over the little
Fir Tree. Oh! this made him so angry. But two winters went by, and when
the third came the little Tree had grown so tall that the hare was
obliged to run around it.

"Oh! to grow, to grow, and become old; that's the only fine thing in the
world," thought the Tree.

In the autumn woodcutters always came and felled a few of the largest
trees; that was done this year too, and the little Fir Tree, that was
now quite well grown, shuddered with fear, for the great stately trees
fell to the ground with a crash, and their branches were cut off, so
that the trees looked quite naked, long, and slender--they could hardly
be recognized. But then they were laid upon waggons, and horses dragged
them away out of the wood. Where were they going? What destiny awaited
them?

In the spring, when the swallows and the Stork came, the Tree asked
them, "Do you know where they were taken? Did you not meet them?"

The swallows knew nothing about it, but the Stork looked thoughtful,
nodded his head, and said,

"Yes, I think so. I met many new ships when I flew out of Egypt; on the
ships were stately masts; I fancy that these were the trees. They smelt
like fir. I can assure you they're stately--very stately."

"Oh that I were only big enough to go over the sea! What kind of thing
is this sea, and how does it look?"

"It would take too long to explain all that," said the Stork, and he
went away.

"Rejoice in thy youth," said the Sunbeams; "rejoice in thy fresh growth,
and in the young life that is within thee."

And the wind kissed the Tree, and the dew wept tears upon it; but the
Fir Tree did not understand that.

When Christmas-time approached, quite young trees were felled, sometimes
trees which were neither so old nor so large as this Fir Tree, that
never rested but always wanted to go away. These young trees, which were
almost the most beautiful, kept all their branches; they were put upon
wagons, and horses dragged them away out of the wood.

"Where are they all going?" asked the Fir Tree. "They are not greater
than I--indeed, one of them was much smaller. Why do they keep all their
branches? Whither are they taken?"

"We know that! We know that!" chirped the Sparrows. "Yonder in the town
we looked in a