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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=351434" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Tree</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=351434" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Ready with leaves and with buds stood the tree.<br>"Shall I take them?" the frost said, now puffing with glee.<br> "Oh my, no, let them stand,<br> Till flowers are at hand!"<br>All trembling from tree-top to root came the plea.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=351434" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Flowers unfolding the birds gladly sung.<br>"Shall I take them?" the wind said and merrily swung.<br> "Oh my, no, let them stand,<br> Till cherries are at hand!"<br>Protested the tree, while it quivering hung.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=351434" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The cherries came forth 'neath the sun's glowing eye.<br>"Shall I take them?" a rosy young girl's eager cry.<br> "Oh my, yes, you can take,<br> I've kept them for your sake!"<br>Low bending its branches, the tree brought them nigh.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Bj%C3%B8rnstjerne+Bj%C3%B8rnson">Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson</a></strong></div>

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