THE LAST DREAM OF THE OLD OAK TREE.docx
《THE LAST DREAM OF THE OLD OAK TREE.docx》由会员分享，可在线阅读，更多相关《THE LAST DREAM OF THE OLD OAK TREE.docx（7页珍藏版）》请在冰豆网上搜索。
THELASTDREAMOFTHEOLDOAKTREE
THELASTDREAMOFTHEOLDOAKTREE
ACHRISTMASTALE
INtheforest，highuponthesteepshore，hardbytheopenseacoast，stoodaveryoldOakTree．Itwasexactlythreehundredandsixty-fiveyearsold，butthatlongtimewasnotmorefortheTreethanjustasmanydayswouldbetousmen．Wewakebydayandsleepthroughthenight，andthenwehaveourdreams：
itisdifferentwiththeTree，whichkeepsawakethroughthreeseasonsoftheyear，anddoesnotgetitssleeptillwintercomes．Winterisitstimeforrest，itsnightafterthelongdaywhichiscalledspring，summer，andautumn．
Onmanya[warm]summerdaytheEphemera，[theflythatlivesbutforaday，]haddancedaroundhiscrown—hadlived，enjoyed，andfelthappy；andthenthetinycreaturehadrestedforamomentinquietblissononeofthegreatfreshOakleaves；andthentheTreealwayssaid，
“Poorlittlething！
Yourwholelifeisbutasingleday！
Howveryshort！
It'squitemelancholy．”
“Melancholy！
Whydoyousaythat？
”theEphemerawouldthenalwaysreply．“It'swonderfullybright，warm，andbeautifulallaroundme，andthatmakesmerejoice．”
“Butonlyoneday，andthenit'salldone！
”
“Done！
”repeatedtheEphemera．“What'sthemean－inofdone？
Areyoudone，too？
”
“No；Ishallperhapsliveforthousandsofyourdays，andmydayiswholeseasonslong！
It'ssomethingsolong，thatyoucan'tatallmanagetoreckonitout．”
“No？
thenIdon'tunderstandyou．Yousayyouhavethousandsofmydays；butIhavethousandsofmoments，inwhichIcanbemerryandhappy．Doesallthebeautyofthisworldceasewhenyoudie？
”
“No，”repliedtheTree；“itwillcertainlylastmuchlonger—farlongerthanIcanpossiblythink．”
“Well，then，wehavethesametime，onlythatwereckondifferently．”
AndtheEphemeradancedandfloatedintheair，andrejoicedinherdelicatewingsofgauzeandvelvet，andrejoicedinthebalmybreezesladenwiththefragranceofthemeadowsandofwildrosesandelderflowers，ofthegardenhedges，wildthyme，andmint，anddaisies；thescentofthesewasallsostrongthattheEphemerawasal－mostintoxicated．Thedaywaslongandbeautiful，fullofjoyandofsweetfeeling，andwhenthesunsanklowthelittleflyfeltveryagreeablytiredofallitshappinessandenjoyment．Thedelicatewingswouldnotcarryitanymore，andquietlyandslowlyifglideddownuponthesoftgrass-blade，noddeditsheadaswellasitcouldnod，andwentquietlytosleep—andwasdead．
“PoorlittleEphemera！
”saidtheOak．“Thatwasaterriblyshortlife！
”
Andoneverysummerdaythesamedancewasrepeated，thesamequestionandanswer，andthesamesleep．ThesamethingwasrepeatedthroughwholegenerationsofEphemerae，andallofthemfeltequallymerryandequallyhappy．
TheOakstoodthereawakethroughthespringmorn－in，thenoonofsummer，andtheeveningofautumn；anditstimeofrest，itsnight，wascomingonapace．Winterwasapproaching．
Alreadythestormsweresingingtheir“goodnight！
goodnight！
”Herefellaleaf，andtherefellaleaf．
“Wepull！
Seeifyoucansleep！
Wesingyoutosleep，weshakeyoutosleep，butitdoesyougoodinyouroldtwigs，doesitnot？
Theyseemtocrackforveryjoy．Sleepsweetly！
Sleepsweetly！
It'syourthreehundredandsixty－fifthnight．Properlyspeaking，you'reonlyayearoldyet！
Sleepsweetly！
Thecloudsstrewdownsnow，therewillbequiteacoverlet，warmandprotect－in，aroundyourfeet．Sweetsleeptoyou，andpleasantdreams！
”
AndtheoldOakTreestoodthere，strippedofallits1eaves，tosleepthroughthelongwinter，andtodreammanyadream，alwaysaboutsomethingthathadhappenedtoit，justasinthedreamsofmen．
ThegreatOakTreehadoncebeensmall—indeed，anacornhadbeenitscradle．Accordingtohumancommaputation，itwasnowinitsfourthcentury．Itwasthegreatestandbesttreeintheforest；itscrowntoweredfarabovealltheothertrees，andcouldbedescriedfromafaracrossthesea，sothatitservedasalandmarktothesailors：
theTreehadnoideahowmanyeyeswereinthehabitofseekingit．Highupinitsgreensummitthewood－pigeonbuilthernest，andthecuckoosatinitsboughsandsanghissong；andinautumn，whentheleaveslookedlikethinplatesofcopper，thebirdsofpassapecameandrestedthere，beforetheyflewawayacrossthesea；butnowitwaswinter，andtheTreestoodthereleafless，sothateveryonecouldseehowgnarledandcrookedthebrancheswerethatshotforthfromitstrunk．Crowsandrookscameandtooktheirseatbyturnsintheboughs，andspokeofthehardtimeswhichwerebeginning，andofthedifficultyofgettingalivinginwinter．
ItwasjustattheholyChristmastime，whentheTreedreameditsmostgloriousdream．
TheTreehadadistinctfeelingofthefestivetime，andfanciedheheardthebellsringingfromthechurchesallaround；andyetitseemedasifitwereafinesummer'sday，mildandwarm．Freshandgreenhespreadouthismightycrown；thesunbeamsplayedamongthetwigsandtheleaves；theairwasfullofthefragranceofherbsandblossoms；gaybutterflieschasedeachothertoandfro．Theephemeralinsectsdancedasifalltheworldwerecreatedmerelyforthemtodanceandbemerryin．AllthattheTreehadexperiencedforyearsandyears，andthathadhappenedaroundhim，seemedtopassbyhimagain，asinafestivepageant．Hesawtheknightsofancientdaysridebywiththeirnobledamesongallantsteeds，withplumeswavingintheirbonnetsandfalconsontheirwrists．Thehuntinghornsounded，andthedogsbarked．Hesawhostilewarriorsincolouredjerkinsandwithshiningweapons，withspearandhalberd，pitchingtheirtentsandstrikingthemagain．Thewatchfiresflamedupanew，andmensangandsleptunderthebranchesoftheTree．Hesawlovingcouplesmeetingnearhistrunk，happily，inthemoon－shine；andtheycuttheinitialsoftheirnamesinthegreygreenbackofhisstem．Once—butlongyearshadrolledbysincethen—cithernsandAeolianharpshadbeenhunguponhisboughsbymerrywanderers；nowtheyhungthereagain，andonceagaintheysoundedintonesofmarvelloussweetness．Thewood-pigeonscooed，asiftheyweretellingwhattheTreefeltinallthis，andthecuckcocalledouttotellhimhowmanysummerdayshehadyettolive．
Thenitappearedtohimasifnewlifewereripplingdownintotheremotestfibreofhisroot，andmountingupintohishighestbranches，tothetopsoftheleaves．TheTreefeltthathewasstretchingandspreadinghimself，andthroughhisroothefeltthattherewaslifeandwarmtheveninthegrounditself．Helefthisstrengthincrease，hegrewhigher，hisstemshotupunceasingly，andhegrewmoreandmore，hiscrownbecamefullerandspreadout；andinproportionastheTreegrew，hefelthishappinessincrease，andhisjoyoushopethatheshouldreachevenhigher—quiteuptothewarmbrilliantsun．
Alreadyhadhegrownhighupabovetheclouds，whichfloatedpastbeneathhiscrownlikedarktroopsofpassage－birds，orlikegreatwhiteswans．AndeveryleafoftheTreehadthegiftofsight，asifithadeyeswherewithtosee：
thestarsbecamevisibleinbroaddaylight，greatandsparkling；eachofthemsparkledlikeapairofeyes，mildandclear．Theyrecalledtohismemorywell-knowngentleeyes，eyesofchildren，eyesoflovers，whohadmetbeneathhisboughs．
Itwasamarvellousspectacle，andonefullofhappinessandjoy！
AndyetamidallthishappinesstheTreefeltalonging，ayearningdesirethatallothertreesofthewoodbeneathhim，andallthebushes，andherbs，andflowers，mightbeabletorisewithhim，thattheytoomightseethissplendourandexperiencethisjoy．ThegreatmajesticOakwasnotquitehappyinhishappiness，whilehehadnotthemall，greatandlittle，abouthim；andthisfeelingofyearningtrembledthroughhiseverytwig，throughhiseveryleaf，warmlyandferventlyasthroughahumanheart．
ThecrownoftheTreewavedtoandfro，asifhesoughtsomethinginhissilentlonging，andhelookeddown．Thenhefeltthefragranceofwoodruff，andsoonafter－wardsthemorepowerfulscentofhoneysuckleandviolets；andhefanciedheheardthecuckooansweringhim．
Yes，throughthecloudsthegreensummitsoftheforestcamepeeringup，andunderhimselftheOaksawtheothertrees，astheygrewandraisedthemselvesaloft．Bushesandherbsshotuphigh，andsometorethemselvesupbodilybytherootstorisethequicker．Thebirchwasthequickestofall．Likeawhitestreakoflightning，itsslenderstemshotupwardsinazigzagline，andthebranchesspreadarounditlikegreengauzeandlikebanners；thewholewoodlandnatives，eventothebrown－plumedrushes，grewupwiththerest，andthebirdscametoo，andsang；andonthegrass－bladethatflutteredaloftlikealongsilkenribbonintotheair，satthegrasshoppercleaninghiswingswithhisleg；theMaybeetleshummed，andthebeesmurmured，andeverybirdsanginhisappointedmanner；allwassongandsoundofgladnessupintothehighheaven．
“Butthelittleblueflowerbythewater－side，whereisthat？
”saidtheOak；“andthepurplebell－flowerandthedaisy？
”For，yousee，theoldOakTreewantedtohavethemallabouthim．
“Wearehere！
Wearehere！
”wasshoutedandsunginreply．
“Butthebeautifulwoodruffoflastsummer—andinthelastyeartherewascertainlyaplaceherecoveredwithliliesofthevalley！
AndthewildappletreethatLossomedsosplendidly！
Andallthegloryofthewoodthatcameyearbyyear—ifthathadonlylivedandremainedtillnow，thenitmighthavebeenherenow！
”
“Wearehere！
Wearehere！
”repliedvoicesstillhigherintheair．
Itseemedasiftheyhadflownonbefore．
“Why，thatisbeautiful，indescribablybeautiful！
”exclaimedtheoldOakTree，rejoicingly．“Ihavethemallaroundme，greatandsmall；notonehasbeenforgotten！
Howcansomuchhappinessbeimagined？
Howcanitbepossible？
”
“Inheavenitcanbe
升级会员 