10/03/2017 TheLastDreamofOldOak

TheLastDreamofOldOak
byHansChristianAndersen(/author/hanschristianandersen/biobooksstories)

ThoughnotaswellknownasTheLittleMatchGirl(/author/hanschristianandersen/shortstory/thelittlematchgirl),thisisanotherexcellentChristmasStoryby
HansChristianAndersen.

INtheforest,highuponthesteepshore,andnotfarfromtheopenseacoast,stoodaveryold
oaktree.Itwasjustthreehundredandsixtyfiveyearsold,butthatlongtimewastothetreeasthe
samenumberofdaysmightbetouswewakebydayandsleepbynight,andthenwehaveour
dreams.Itisdifferentwiththetreeitisobligedtokeepawakethroughthreeseasonsoftheyear,
anddoesnotgetanysleeptillwintercomes.Winterisitstimeforrestitsnightafterthelongday
ofspring,summer,andautumn.Onmanyawarmsummer,theEphemera,thefliesthatexistfor
onlyaday,hadflutteredabouttheoldoak,enjoyedlifeandfelthappyandif,foramoment,oneof
thetinycreaturesrestedononeofhislargefreshleaves,thetreewouldalwayssay,Poorlittle
creature!yourwholelifeconsistsonlyofasingleday.Howveryshort.Itmustbequite
melancholy.

Melancholy!whatdoyoumean?thelittlecreaturewouldalwaysreply.Everythingaroundmeis
sowonderfullybrightandwarm,andbeautiful,thatitmakesmejoyous.

Butonlyforoneday,andthenitisallover.

Over!repeatedtheflywhatisthemeaningofallover?Areyouallovertoo?

NoIshallverylikelyliveforthousandsofyourdays,andmydayiswholeseasonslongindeeditissolongthatyoucouldnever
reckonitout.

No?thenIdontunderstandyou.Youmayhavethousandsofmydays,butIhavethousandsofmomentsinwhichIcanbemerry
andhappy.Doesallthebeautyoftheworldceasewhenyoudie?

No,repliedthetreeitwillcertainlylastmuchlonger,infinitelylongerthanIcaneventhinkof.Well,then,saidthelittlefly,
wehavethesametimetoliveonlywereckondifferently.Andthelittlecreaturedancedandfloatedintheair,rejoicinginher
delicatewingsofgauzeandvelvet,rejoicinginthebalmybreezes,ladenwiththefragranceofcloverfieldsandwildroses,elder
blossomsandhoneysuckle,fromthegardenhedges,wildthyme,primroses,andmint,andthescentofallthesewassostrongthat
theperfumealmostintoxicatedthelittlefly.Thelongandbeautifuldayhadbeensofullofjoyandsweetdelights,thatwhenthesun
sanklowitfelttiredofallitshappinessandenjoyment.Itswingscouldsustainitnolonger,andgentlyandslowlyitglideddown
uponthesoftwavingbladesofgrass,noddeditslittleheadaswellasitcouldnod,andsleptpeacefullyandsweetly.Theflywas
dead.

PoorlittleEphemera!saidtheoakwhataterriblyshortlife!Andso,oneverysummerdaythedancewasrepeated,thesame
questionsasked,andthesameanswersgiven.ThesamethingwascontinuedthroughmanygenerationsofEphemeraallofthem
feltequallymerryandequallyhappy.

Theoakremainedawakethroughthemorningofspring,thenoonofsummer,andtheeveningofautumnitstimeofrest,itsnight
drewnighwinterwascoming.Alreadythestormsweresinging,Goodnight,goodnight.Herefellaleafandtherefellaleaf.We
willrockyouandlullyou.Gotosleep,gotosleep.Wewillsingyoutosleep,andshakeyoutosleep,anditwilldoyouroldtwigs
goodtheywillevencracklewithpleasure.Sleepsweetly,sleepsweetly,itisyourthreehundredandsixtyfifthnight.Correctly
speaking,youarebutayoungsterintheworld.Sleepsweetly,thecloudswilldropsnowuponyou,whichwillbequiteacoverlid,
warmandshelteringtoyourfeet.Sweetsleeptoyou,andpleasantdreams.Andtherestoodtheoak,strippedofallitsleaves,left
torestduringthewholeofalongwinter,andtodreammanydreamsofeventsthathadhappenedinitslife,asinthedreamsof
men.Thegreattreehadoncebeensmallindeed,initscradleithadbeenanacorn.Accordingtohumancomputation,itwasnow

https://americanliterature.com/author/hanschristianandersen/shortstory/thelastdreamofoldoak 1/4
10/03/2017 TheLastDreamofOldOak

inthefourthcenturyofitsexistence.Itwasthelargestandbesttreeintheforest.Itssummittoweredabovealltheothertrees,and
couldbeseenfaroutatsea,sothatitservedasalandmarktothesailors.Ithadnoideahowmanyeyeslookedeagerlyforit.Inits
topmostbranchesthewoodpigeonbuilthernest,andthecuckoocarriedouthisusualvocalperformances,andhiswellknown
notesechoedamidtheboughsandinautumn,whentheleaveslookedlikebeatencopperplates,thebirdsofpassagewould
comeandrestuponthebranchesbeforetakingtheirflightacrossthesea.Butnowitwaswinter,thetreestoodleafless,sothat
everyonecouldseehowcrookedandbentwerethebranchesthatsprangforthfromthetrunk.Crowsandrookscamebyturns
andsatonthem,andtalkedofthehardtimeswhichwerebeginning,andhowdifficultitwasinwintertoobtainfood.

ItwasjustaboutholyChristmastimethatthetreedreamedadream.Thetreehad,doubtless,akindoffeelingthatthefestivetime
hadarrived,andinhisdreamfanciedheheardthebellsringingfromallthechurchesround,andyetitseemedtohimtobea
beautifulsummersday,mildandwarm.Hismightysummitswascrownedwithspreadingfreshgreenfoliagethesunbeamsplayed
amongtheleavesandbranches,andtheairwasfulloffragrancefromherbandblossompaintedbutterflieschasedeachother
thesummerfliesdancedaroundhim,asiftheworldhadbeencreatedmerelyforthemtodanceandbemerryin.Allthathad
happenedtothetreeduringeveryyearofhislifeseemedtopassbeforehim,asinafestiveprocession.Hesawtheknightsof
oldentimesandnobleladiesridebythroughthewoodontheirgallantsteeds,withplumeswavingintheirhats,andfalconsontheir
wrists.Thehuntinghornsounded,andthedogsbarked.Hesawhostilewarriors,incoloreddressesandglitteringarmor,withspear
andhalberd,pitchingtheirtents,andanonstrikingthem.Thewatchfiresagainblazed,andmensangandsleptunderthe
hospitableshelterofthetree.Hesawloversmeetinquiethappinessnearhiminthemoonshine,andcarvetheinitialsoftheir
namesinthegrayishgreenbarkonhistrunk.Once,butlongyearshadintervenedsincethen,guitarsandEolianharpshadbeen
hungonhisboughsbymerrytravellersnowtheyseemedtohangthereagain,andhecouldheartheirmarvelloustones.The
woodpigeonscooedasiftoexplainthefeelingsofthetree,andthecuckoocalledouttotellhimhowmanysummerdayshehad
yettolive.Thenitseemedasifnewlifewasthrillingthrougheveryfibreofrootandstemandleaf,risingeventothehighest
branches.Thetreefeltitselfstretchingandspreadingout,whilethroughtherootbeneaththeearthranthewarmvigoroflife.Ashe
grewhigherandstillhigher,withincreasedstrength,histopmostboughsbecamebroaderandfullerandinproportiontohis
growth,sowashisselfsatisfactionincreased,andwithitaroseajoyouslongingtogrowhigherandhigher,toreacheventothe
warm,brightsunitself.Alreadyhadhistopmostbranchespiercedtheclouds,whichfloatedbeneaththemliketroopsofbirdsof
passage,orlargewhiteswanseveryleafseemedgiftedwithsight,asifitpossessedeyestosee.Thestarsbecamevisiblein
broaddaylight,largeandsparkling,likeclearandgentleeyes.Theyrecalledtothememorythewellknownlookintheeyesofa
child,orintheeyesofloverswhohadoncemetbeneaththebranchesoftheoldoak.Thesewerewonderfulandhappymoments
fortheoldtree,fullofpeaceandjoyandyet,amidstallthishappiness,thetreefeltayearning,longingdesirethatalltheother
trees,bushes,herbs,andflowersbeneathhim,mightbeablealsotorisehigher,ashehaddone,andtoseeallthissplendor,and
experiencethesamehappiness.Thegrand,majesticoakcouldnotbequitehappyinthemidstofhisenjoyment,whilealltherest,
bothgreatandsmall,werenotwithhim.Andthisfeelingofyearningtrembledthrougheverybranch,througheveryleaf,aswarmly
andferventlyasiftheyhadbeenthefibresofahumanheart.Thesummitofthetreewavedtoandfro,andbentdownwardsasifin
hissilentlonginghesoughtforsomething.Thentherecametohimthefragranceofthyme,followedbythemorepowerfulscentof
honeysuckleandvioletsandhefanciedheheardthenoteofthecuckoo.Atlengthhislongingwassatisfied.Upthroughtheclouds
camethegreensummitsoftheforesttrees,andbeneathhim,theoaksawthemrising,andgrowinghigherandhigher.Bushand
herbshotupward,andsomeeventorethemselvesupbytherootstorisemorequickly.Thebirchtreewasthequickestofall.Like
alightningflashtheslenderstemshotupwardsinazigzagline,thebranchesspreadingarounditlikegreengauzeandbanners.
Everynativeofthewood,eventothebrownandfeatheryrushes,grewwiththerest,whilethebirdsascendedwiththemelodyof
song.Onabladeofgrass,thatflutteredintheairlikealong,greenribbon,satagrasshopper,cleaninghiswingswithhislegs.May
beetleshummed,thebeesmurmured,thebirdssang,eachinhisownwaytheairwasfilledwiththesoundsofsongandgladness.

Butwhereisthelittleblueflowerthatgrowsbythewater?askedtheoak,andthepurplebellflower,andthedaisy?Youseethe
oakwantedtohavethemallwithhim.

Hereweare,wearehere,soundedinvoiceandsong.

Butthebeautifulthymeoflastsummer,whereisthat?andtheliliesofthevalley,whichlastyearcoveredtheearthwiththeir
bloom?andthewildappletreewithitslovelyblossoms,andallthegloryofthewood,whichhasflourishedyearafteryear?even
whatmayhavebutnowsproutedforthcouldbewithushere.

Wearehere,wearehere,soundedvoiceshigherintheair,asiftheyhadflowntherebeforehand.

https://americanliterature.com/author/hanschristianandersen/shortstory/thelastdreamofoldoak 2/4
10/03/2017 TheLastDreamofOldOak

Whythisisbeautiful,toobeautifultobebelieved,saidtheoakinajoyfultone.Ihavethemallhere,bothgreatandsmallnotone
hasbeenforgotten.Cansuchhappinessbeimagined?Itseemedalmostimpossible.

InheavenwiththeEternalGod,itcanbeimagined,anditispossible,soundedthereplythroughtheair.

Andtheoldtree,asitstillgrewupwardsandonwards,feltthathisrootswerelooseningthemselvesfromtheearth.

Itisrightso,itisbest,saidthetree,nofettersholdmenow.Icanflyuptotheveryhighestpointinlightandglory.AndallIlove
arewithme,bothsmallandgreat.Allallarehere.

Suchwasthedreamoftheoldoak:andwhilehedreamed,amightystormcamerushingoverlandandsea,attheholyChristmas
time.Thesearolledingreatbillowstowardstheshore.Therewasacrackingandcrushingheardinthetree.Therootwastorn
fromthegroundjustatthemomentwheninhisdreamhefancieditwasbeingloosenedfromtheearth.Hefellhisthreehundred
andsixtyfiveyearswerepassedasthesingledayoftheEphemera.OnthemorningofChristmasday,whenthesunrose,the
stormhadceased.Fromallthechurchessoundedthefestivebells,andfromeveryhearth,evenofthesmallesthut,rosethe
smokeintothebluesky,likethesmokefromthefestivethankofferingsontheDruidsaltars.Theseagraduallybecamecalm,and
onboardagreatshipthathadwithstoodthetempestduringthenight,alltheflagsweredisplayed,asatokenofjoyandfestivity.
Thetreeisdown!Theoldoak,ourlandmarkonthecoast!exclaimedthesailors.Itmusthavefalleninthestormoflastnight.
Whocanreplaceit?Alas!noone.Thiswasafuneralorationovertheoldtreeshort,butwellmeant.Thereitlaystretchedonthe
snowcoveredshore,andoveritsoundedthenotesofasongfromtheshipasongofChristmasjoy,andoftheredemptionofthe
soulofman,andofeternallifethroughChristsatoningblood.

Sing aloud on the happy morn,

All is fullled, for Christ is born;
With songs of joy let us loudly sing,
Hallelujahs to Christ our King.

ThussoundedtheoldChristmascarol,andeveryoneonboardtheshipfelthisthoughtselevated,throughthesongandthe
prayer,evenastheoldtreehadfeltliftedupinitslast,itsbeautifuldreamonthatChristmasmorn.

TheLastDreamofOldOakwasfeaturedasTheShortStoryoftheDay(/shortstoryoftheday)onMon,Nov28,2016

ThestoryopenswitholdoaktreeexpressingsympathyfortheEphemeras'shortlives.Theflycountersbyexplainingthattheybothhavejustonelife
andthedifferenceissimplyinthewayitismeasuredtheflymeasuringmoments,thetreemeasuringyears.Iimaginethatthisstorymayhavebeen
theinspirationforaninterestinglittlecommercialthatVodafoneranaround2006.Pleaserereadthefollowingpassage,thenwatchthevideoandsee
whatyouthink.

And the little creature danced and oated in the air, rejoicing in her delicate wings of gauze and velvet, rejoicing in the balmy
breezes, laden with the fragrance of clover-elds and wild roses, elder-blossoms and honeysuckle, from the garden hedges, wild
thyme, primroses, and mint, and the scent of all these was so strong that the perfume almost intoxicated the little y. The long
and beautiful day had been so full of joy and sweet delights, that when the sun sank low it felt tired of all its happiness and
enjoyment. Its wings could sustain it no longer, and gently and slowly it glided down upon the soft waving blades of grass, nodded
its little head as well as it could nod, and slept peacefully and sweetly.

https://americanliterature.com/author/hanschristianandersen/shortstory/thelastdreamofoldoak 3/4
10/03/2017 TheLastDreamofOldOak

Vodafone - Mayy

TheLastDreamofOldOakisafeaturedselectioninourcollectionofChristmasStories(/christmas).

7.0

(https://www.facebook.com/sharer.php?u=https%3A//americanliterature.com/author/hanschristianandersen/shortstory/thelastdream
ofoldoak) (https://twitter.com/share?url=https%3A//americanliterature.com/author/hanschristianandersen/shortstory/thelastdream
ofoldoak) (https://plus.google.com/share?url=https%3A//americanliterature.com/author/hanschristianandersen/shortstory/thelast
dreamofoldoak) (https://www.tumblr.com/share/link?url=https%3A//americanliterature.com/author/hanschristianandersen/short
story/thelastdreamofoldoak) (https://reddit.com/submit?url=https%3A//americanliterature.com/author/hanschristianandersen/short
story/thelastdreamofoldoak) (mailto:?Subject=American%20Literature) (https://www.pinterest.com/amlitdotcom/)

Createalibraryandaddyourfavoritestories.Getstartedbyclickingthe"Add"button.

Add(/accounts/signup/) TheLastDreamofOldOaktoyourownpersonallibrary.

ReturntotheHansChristianAndersen(/author/hanschristianandersen/biobooksstories)HomePage,or...Readthenextshort
storyTheLeapFrog(/author/hanschristianandersen/shortstory/theleapfrog)

OrreadmoreshortstoriesforkidsinourChildren'sLibrary(/shortstoriesforchildren)

(/author/antonchekhov/biobooksstories)
(/author/nathanielhawthorne/biobooksstories)
(/author/susanglaspell/biobooksstories)
(/author/marktwain/biobooksstories)
(/author/edgarallanpoe/biobooksstories)
(/author/maryewilkinsfreeman/biobooksstories)
(/author/hermanmelville/biobooks
stories)
(/author/stephen
leacock/biobooksstories)
(/author/kate
chopin/bio
books
stories)

(/author/bjrnstjernebjrnson/biobooksstories)

https://americanliterature.com/author/hanschristianandersen/shortstory/thelastdreamofoldoak 4/4