seperation ..

So the swallow flew over the great city, and saw the rich making

merry in their beautiful houses, while the beggars were sitting at

the gates. He flew into dark lanes, and saw the white faces of

starving children looking out listlessly at the black streets. Under

the archway of a bridge two little boys were lying in each other’s

arms to try and keep themselves warm. “How hungry we are!”

they said. “You must not lie here,” shouted the watchman, and

they wandered out into the rain.

Then he flew back and told the Prince what he had seen.

“I am covered with fine gold,” said the Prince. “You must take

it off, leaf by leaf, and give it to the poor; the living always think

that gold can make them happy.”

Leaf after leaf of the fine gold the swallow picked off, till the

Happy Prince looked quite dull and grey. Leaf after leaf of the

fine gold he brought to the poor, and the children’s faces grew

rosier, and they laughed and played in the street. “We have bread

Now!” they cried.

Then the snow came, and after the snow came the frost. The

streets looked as if they were made of silver. Everybody went about

in furs, and the little boys wore scarlet caps and skated on the ice.

The poor little swallow grew colder and colder, but he would

not leave the Prince, he loved him too well. He picked up crumbs

outside the baker’s door when the baker was not looking, and

tried to keep himself warm by flapping his wings.

But at last he knew that he was going to die. He had just

enough strength to fly up to the Prince’s shoulder once more.

“Goodbye, dear Prince!” he murmured. “Will you let me kiss your

hand?

“I am glad that you are going to Egypt at last, little Swallow,”

said the Prince. “You have stayed too long here but you must kiss

me on the lips, for I love you.”

“It is not to Egypt that am going,” said the swallow. “I am going

to the House of Death. Death is the brother of Sleep, is he not?”

And he kissed the Happy Prince on the lips, and fell down

dead at his feet.

At that moment a curious crack sounded inside the statue, as

if something had broken. The fact is that the leaden heart had

snapped right in two. It certainly was a dreadfully hard frost.

Early the next morning the Mayor was walking in the square

below in company with the Town Councillors. As they passed the

column he looked up at the statue “Dear me! How shabby the

Happy Prince looks!” he said“How shabby, indeed!” cried the Town Councillors, who always

agreed with the Mayor and they went up to look at it.

“The ruby has fallen out of his sword, his eyes are gone, and

he is golden no longer,” said the Mayor. “In fact, he is little better

than a beggar!”..

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