THE LAST DREAM OF THE OLD OAK [1]
once been small;
indeed, in its cradle it had been an acorn. According to human
computation, it was now in the fourth century of its existence. It was
the largest and best tree in the forest. Its summit towered above
all the other trees, and could be seen far out at sea, so that it
served as a landmark to the sailors. It had no idea how many eyes
looked eagerly for it. In its topmost branches the wood-pigeon built
her nest, and the cuckoo carried out his usual vocal performances, and
his well-known notes echoed amid the boughs; and in autumn, when the
leaves looked like beaten copper plates, the birds of passage would
come and rest upon the branches before taking their flight across
the sea. But now it was winter, the tree stood leafless, so that every
one could see how crooked and bent were the branches that sprang forth
from the trunk. Crows and rooks came by turns and sat on them, and
talked of the hard times which were beginning, and how difficult it
was in winter to obtain food.
It was just about holy Christmas time that the tree dreamed a
dream. The tree had, doubtless, a kind of feeling that the festive
time had arrived, and in his dream fancied he heard the bells
ringing from all the churches round, and yet it seemed to him to be
a beautiful summer's day, mild and warm. His mighty summits was
crowned with spreading fresh green foliage; the sunbeams played
among the leaves and branches, and the air was full of fragrance
from herb and blossom; painted butterflies chased each other; the
summer flies danced around him, as if the world had been created
merely for them to dance and be merry in. All that had happened to the
tree during every year of his life seemed to pass before him, as in
a festive procession. He saw the knights of olden times and noble
ladies ride by through the wood on their gallant steeds, with plumes
waving in their hats, and falcons on their wrists. The hunting horn
sounded, and the dogs barked. He saw hostile warriors, in colored
dresses and glittering armor, with spear and halberd, pitching their
tents, and anon striking them. The watchfires again blazed, and men
sang and slept under the hospitable shelter of the tree. He saw lovers
meet in quiet happiness near him in the moonshine, and carve the
initials of their names in the grayish-green bark on his trunk.
Once, but long years had intervened since then, guitars and Eolian
harps had been hung on his boughs by merry travellers; now they seemed
to hang there again, and he could hear their marvellous tones. The
wood-pigeons cooed as if to explain the feelings of the tree, and
the cuckoo called out to tell him how many summer days he had yet to
live. Then it seemed as if new life was thrilling through every
fibre of root and stem and leaf, rising even to the highest
branches. The tree felt itself stretching and spreading out, while
through the root beneath the earth ran the warm vigor of life. As he
grew higher and still higher, with increased strength, his topmost
boughs became broader and fuller; and in proportion to his growth,
so was his self-satisfaction increased, and with it arose a joyous
longing to grow higher and higher, to reach even to the warm, bright
sun itself. Already had his topmost branches pierced the clouds, which
floated beneath them like troops of birds of passage, or large white
swans; every leaf seemed gifted with sight, as if it possessed eyes to
see. The stars became visible in broad daylight, large and
sparkling, like clear and gentle eyes. They recalled to the memory the
well-known look in the eyes of a child, or in the eyes of lovers who
had once met beneath the branches of the old oak. These were wonderful
and happy moments for the old tree, full of peace and joy; and yet,
amidst all this happiness, the tree felt a yearning, longing desire
that all the other trees, bushes, herbs, and flowers beneath him,
might be able also to rise higher, as he had done, and to see all this
splendor, and experience
indeed, in its cradle it had been an acorn. According to human
computation, it was now in the fourth century of its existence. It was
the largest and best tree in the forest. Its summit towered above
all the other trees, and could be seen far out at sea, so that it
served as a landmark to the sailors. It had no idea how many eyes
looked eagerly for it. In its topmost branches the wood-pigeon built
her nest, and the cuckoo carried out his usual vocal performances, and
his well-known notes echoed amid the boughs; and in autumn, when the
leaves looked like beaten copper plates, the birds of passage would
come and rest upon the branches before taking their flight across
the sea. But now it was winter, the tree stood leafless, so that every
one could see how crooked and bent were the branches that sprang forth
from the trunk. Crows and rooks came by turns and sat on them, and
talked of the hard times which were beginning, and how difficult it
was in winter to obtain food.
It was just about holy Christmas time that the tree dreamed a
dream. The tree had, doubtless, a kind of feeling that the festive
time had arrived, and in his dream fancied he heard the bells
ringing from all the churches round, and yet it seemed to him to be
a beautiful summer's day, mild and warm. His mighty summits was
crowned with spreading fresh green foliage; the sunbeams played
among the leaves and branches, and the air was full of fragrance
from herb and blossom; painted butterflies chased each other; the
summer flies danced around him, as if the world had been created
merely for them to dance and be merry in. All that had happened to the
tree during every year of his life seemed to pass before him, as in
a festive procession. He saw the knights of olden times and noble
ladies ride by through the wood on their gallant steeds, with plumes
waving in their hats, and falcons on their wrists. The hunting horn
sounded, and the dogs barked. He saw hostile warriors, in colored
dresses and glittering armor, with spear and halberd, pitching their
tents, and anon striking them. The watchfires again blazed, and men
sang and slept under the hospitable shelter of the tree. He saw lovers
meet in quiet happiness near him in the moonshine, and carve the
initials of their names in the grayish-green bark on his trunk.
Once, but long years had intervened since then, guitars and Eolian
harps had been hung on his boughs by merry travellers; now they seemed
to hang there again, and he could hear their marvellous tones. The
wood-pigeons cooed as if to explain the feelings of the tree, and
the cuckoo called out to tell him how many summer days he had yet to
live. Then it seemed as if new life was thrilling through every
fibre of root and stem and leaf, rising even to the highest
branches. The tree felt itself stretching and spreading out, while
through the root beneath the earth ran the warm vigor of life. As he
grew higher and still higher, with increased strength, his topmost
boughs became broader and fuller; and in proportion to his growth,
so was his self-satisfaction increased, and with it arose a joyous
longing to grow higher and higher, to reach even to the warm, bright
sun itself. Already had his topmost branches pierced the clouds, which
floated beneath them like troops of birds of passage, or large white
swans; every leaf seemed gifted with sight, as if it possessed eyes to
see. The stars became visible in broad daylight, large and
sparkling, like clear and gentle eyes. They recalled to the memory the
well-known look in the eyes of a child, or in the eyes of lovers who
had once met beneath the branches of the old oak. These were wonderful
and happy moments for the old tree, full of peace and joy; and yet,
amidst all this happiness, the tree felt a yearning, longing desire
that all the other trees, bushes, herbs, and flowers beneath him,
might be able also to rise higher, as he had done, and to see all this
splendor, and experience