Marjorie Barrows
Little pines upon the hill,
Sleeping in the moonlight still,
Are you dreaming now of me
Who bloomed into a Christmas tree?
Baby moons of gold and red
Cuddle close beside my head;
In my tangled leaves a string
Of fairy stars are glimmering;
While my arms, for girls and boys,
Blossom with a hundred toys.
O, little pines, it's fun to live
To be a Christmas tree - and give!
THE CHRISTMAS CALF
Judy Van der Veer
The cows are milked, the horses fed;
And nestled in the sweet warm hay,
There sleeps a little spotted calf
Born early on this Christmas day.
I found it when I cam to milk,
Before the stars had left the sky;
The mother standing over it,
With deep and watchful eye.
And though the wind outside was cold,
The big barn was a kindly place;
I moved my lantern back and forth
And saw it light each creature’s face.
I pitched down hay and thought how good
And sweet a place a barn may be;
I heard the pigeons move about
On rafters where I could not see
The barn was filled with sound of wings
As pigeons wakened into flight
And then I thought of Angel wings
Above a barn on Holy Night …
Of barn made sacred by a Child
Who came to bless all helpless things –
(The little spotted calf slept on,
All unaware of shining wings.)
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