Proud Little Spruce Fir

On a cold winter day the snow came down
To cover the leafless trees,
Very glad they were of a snow-white gown,
To keep out the chilly breeze.

But a little spruce fir, all gaily dressed
In tiny sharp leaves of green,
Was drooping beneath the load on its breast,
And not a leaf could be seen.

“I'm an evergreen tree,” he proudly thought,
“And really they ought to know
That I'm looking my best, and care not a jot
How bitter the wind may blow.”
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