The Christmas Tree Fairy
By Wendy Lewis
"I'll tell you now," their father said,
"It was a long and narrow street,
Without bright garlands overhead,
Without the sound of pattering feet,
Darkened with the gathering night,
Unwelcome to the passers-by,
Where windows seemed to shine no light,
That something there it caught my eye.
"And stopping I began to look
Within the window of the shop
Where hid behind a heavy book
I saw the thing that made me stop.
"A doll with wings and porcelain face,
With pensive eyes and golden hair.
She looked, I thought, so out of place
Beside the other objects there.
"She gazed upon me mournfully,
I turned and went inside the shop
Thinking of our Christmas tree
Without the fairy doll on top.
"Inside were many shelves of books,
The fusty air felt wet and old
And every volume seemed to look
As if it felt the damp and cold.
“It
was so dark, I hardly saw
A
bent old lady in the shop,
She
asked me what I came here for,
I
said the doll had made me stop.
“She
looked at me a little while,
Then
took the doll out carefully
And,
holding it, she slowly smiled
And
started on its history.
“She
said the doll was very old,
And
she remembered well the day
Upon
a Winter’s evening cold
Her
Father brought it in the sleigh.
“And
all her siblings ran to see
The
angel doll - their Christmas treat ,
And
how they marvelled wondrously
To
see its face and fairy feet.
“They
were so poor it soon became
The
prettiest, richest thing they had.
But
when the Winter, hard again,
Grew
worse and worse, so cold and sad,
Their
parents talked of selling it,
And
maybe would have done so too,
If
Mary hadn’t thrown a fit
And
threatened dreadful things she’d do.
“So
when their parents finally died,
Some
ten years later, maybe more,
‘Twas
Mary (who had screamed and cried),
Who
kept the doll she’d pleaded for.
“But
it was not so long ago
That,
on a visit to her home,
The
shopkeeper had found the doll
Up
in the attic, on her own.
“So
dusty she could hardly see
The
dainty face and golden hair,
And
asking how this came to be,
Her
sister didn’t even care.
“
‘My sister thought,” the woman sighed,
‘The
fairy doll perhaps would sell,
’Twas
sad to see her love had died
And
yet I took it, knowing well
That
I could never sell her now,
Until
I saw her all alone,
And
then I started thinking how
The
doll deserved a real home
“
‘With children and a Christmas tree,
With
presents hidden underneath,
A
home that had a family
And
garlands and a holly wreath.’
“I
said to her ‘I’ve all of this,
A
family and garlands gold’,
‘Then
let,’ she said, ‘this be a gift
And
then the doll - it won’t be sold.’
“And
speaking thus she gave to me
The
doll we’d talked about so long,
I
thanked her for it gratefully
Then
hurried home in blizzards strong.”
Their
Father lifted out a box,
The
children all leant for’d to see
The
fairy doll with silken locks,
And
caught their breath delightedly.
For
what they saw was even more
Than
all their Father had described.
The
one thing they’d been wishing for
Was
now beneath their very eyes.
“She’s
all you said,” his daughter cried,
“But
for one thing, be it small,
You
said she had such mournful eyes
But
look, she smiles upon us all.”
“What
you say is very true,”
Her
Father couldn’t help agree,
“And
yet I said, and still I do,
That
she looked at me mournfully.”
And
soon the doll, she stood serene
Upon
the tree with smiles so sweet,
Of
all she viewed she was the queen
And
now the room it was complete.
And
there she sat the Christmas through,
Smiling
down, no longer sad,
She
was the only witness to
The
happiest time they’d ever had!
The End
In
the darkness of the night,
Snowflakes
whirl their dizzy way,
Clothing
all in wintry white
Which
would have sparkled bright by day.
Tree
trunks disappear from view
As
the snow creeps up in height,
With
twigs and branches peeping through,
It
grows and grows at dead of night.
But
a house, with chimneys tall,
Has
not been covered, yet, by snow,
And
in this place, though be it small,
My
reader must now choose to go.
The
living room is sparkling bright
With
candles, tinsel, all things gold,
A
fire glowing, merry light
Dispelling
any trace of cold.
Trembling
shadows jump and leap
While
tongues of fire dance in the grate,
Before
this lies a cat asleep -
Or
nearly so, at any rate.
Candles
flicker on the tree,
Softly
gold they shine their light,
Tied
with ribbons carefully
To
make tight bows of red and white.
Boughs
of pine and sprigs of yew
Hang
in curves around each wall,
Entwined
with golden tinsel too,
And
hung with dainty ribbons small.
The
tree itself is bright with light,
Dripping
gold with stars that glow,
Shimmering
tinsel, silver-white
And
pretty dolls and sparkling snow.
Tiny
books are hanging there,
With
little print and drawings small,
Next
to chocolates hung with care,
And
sticks of candy striped and tall.
Feather
birds and dainty toys,
Coloured
balls and beads as well,
Also
gifts for girls and boys -
But
their contents, who can tell?
All
in all the room’s aglow
With
candle light, a Christmas treat -
A
contrast with the outside snow,
But
the room is not complete.
For
to crown the Christmas tree
There
is no fairy - none at all -
And
where a doll or star should be,
There’s
just the pine twigs branching tall.
A
noise is heard and voices too
As
willing hands push ope’ the door,
A
gasp of joy, they’ve seen the view
That
none, ‘til then, had seen before.
The
glory of the Christmas tree,
The
splendour of the candles bright,
The
colour and festivity
Create
a room of dazzling light.
Their
Mother follows close behind
To
watch the children laugh and smile.
She
and her husband always find
This
helps to make the work worthwhile.
The
children sit beside the fire
Looking
round at this and that
They
lift their eyes a little higher
Then
drop them darkly to the cat.
They
saw the place no fairy stood,
Remembered
last year’s tragic tale
When
the cat, so far from good,
Had
up the pine tree tried to scale.
She’d
got so far quite nimbly
But
in attempt to climb some higher,
Had
fallen with the Christmas tree
And
nearly set their house on fire!
The
cat had ’scaped without a hurt,
The
children said it wasn’t fair,
For
nothing else was badly burnt
But
for the fairy, past repair.
And
now their Christmas seemed to lack
Her
presence watching from the tree,
And
all the children wished her back
And
missed her now most dreadfully.
Their
Mother followed close behind
And
took her seat beside the fire,
“Is
Daddy coming late or soon?”
Her
daughter couldn’t help enquire.
“I
think he’ll be some more time yet.”
Her
daughter frowned, “he’s been a while.”
“He
has some certain things to get,”
Her
Mother answered with a smile.
And
so they waited patiently
And
talked of Christmases gone by,
Whilst
outside flakes fell silently
Down
from the dark and wintry sky.
It
was a landscape lost in snow
Enclosed
in darkness from the night,
The
place a traveller dreads to go
But
for that one small patch of light.
And
though this patch is faint and dimmed
By
the outside, raging storm,
Frenzied
by a gathering wind,
Yet
still it shines - a glowing form.
And
’tis an hour later when
A
second little light appears.
It
is their Father home again
To
put at bay the growing fears.
Some
take his hat and some his scarf,
Others
his coat, with snow so white,
And
then they lead him to the hearth
To
warm his hands as best he might.
He tells them all of where he's been:
The city - so much light and noise -
The many shops that there he'd seen
With windows full of sweets and toys,
The carol singers in the street,
The children with their snowball fight,
The sound of laughing, running feet
As people hurried home that night.
The shops all selling Christmas treats,
With wreaths of holly on each door,
One window there with many sweets,
"And guess", he said, "what else I saw."
"A sleigh?" his youngest daughter guessed.
"Not even close" her father said,
"A man or woman strangely dressed?"
But still her father shook his head.
"A snowman?" "No." "A frozen lake?"
"Some jingling bells, a Christmas tree?"
"Some bread, some buns, a little cake,
Or is it something Christmassy?"