72 WINTER STORIES AND POEMS 



THE KIND OLD OAK 



IT was almost time for winter to come. 



The little birds had all gone far away, for 

 they were afraid of the cold. 



There was no green grass in the fields. 

 There were no pretty flowers in the garden. 



Many of the trees had dropped all their leaves. 

 Cold winter, with its snow and ice, was coining. 



At the foot of an old oak-tree, some sweet 

 little violets were still in blossom. 



"Dear old oak/' said they, "winter is com- 

 ing. We are afraid that we shall die of the 

 cold." 



" Do not be afraid, little ones," said the oak. 

 "Close your yellow eyes in sleep and trust to 

 me. You have made me glad many a time 

 with your sweetness. Now I shall take care 

 that the winter may do you no harm." 



So the violets closed their pretty eyes and 

 went to sleep. They knew that they could 

 trust the kind old oak. 



And the great tree softly dropped red leaf 

 after red leaf upon them until they were all 

 covered over. 



