I haven’t been on Facebook long & have found it to be a place where nice things happen as well as good connections & the occasional surprise. Recently a Facebook friend sent me a poem & a photo of a tree that she had kept since she was a child. I was surprised that she would give these to me as they obviously have had great meaning for her.
I find it lovely that a child can connect so strongly to trees that they keep something like this in their possession well into adulthood. Maybe it is a girl thing because I also had a poem I found in one of my mother’s magazines that I found quite profound & kept for many years.
The poem is called ‘Trees’ & was written by Andrew Lang. Not having heard of him I did a Google search & found that he was a poet & novelist, journalist, literary critic, historian & Anthropologist writing for both children & adults. Andrew Lang was born in March 1844 in Selkirk Scotland & was the eldest of 8 children. He died in July 1912 aged 68. He was a prolific writer to say the least, writing predominantly on folklore, religion & mythology. He also translated fairy tales from other languages into English.
Once I read through the list of his books I saw that I had read more than one of his works. Many of his books are so famous that probably most people have come across his writing.
Amazon republished ‘The Crimson Fairy Book’ in March 2012 -
“Andrew Lang’s Fairy Books or Andrew Lang’s “Coloured” Fairy Books constitute a twelve-book series of fairy tale collections. Although Andrew Lang did not collect the stories himself from the oral tradition, the extent of his sources, who had collected them originally (with the notable exception of Madame d’Aulnoy), made them an immensely influential collection, especially as he used foreign-language sources, giving many of these tales their first appearance in English. As acknowledged in the prefaces, although Lang himself made most of the selections, his wife and other translators did a large portion of the translating and telling of the actual stories.”
It would be no good for the poem & photo to find its way into a drawer at my home so I am sharing them with you. Think of the little girl who was so moved about trees that she kept it, probably reading it tens of times over the years. An adult now, she still loves trees, which is why our paths have crossed.