Oscar Wilde's The Happy Prince

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High above the city, on a tall column, stood the statue of the Happy Prince. He was covered all over with thin leaves of fine gold, his eyes were two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed on the hilt of his sword. He was very much admired indeed. “Why can’t you be like the Happy Prince?” a mother asked her little boy who was crying for the moon. “The Happy Prince never dreams of crying for anything.”

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One night a little Swallow flew over the city on his way to Egypt. He was looking for somewhere to rest when he saw the statue on the tall column.

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“I will rest there,” he cried. “It’s the perfect place, with plenty of fresh air.” So he landed just between the feet of the Happy Prince.

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“I have a golden bedroom,” he said softly to himself as he looked round. Just as he was putting his head under his wing to sleep, a large drop of water fell on him. “What a curious thing!” he cried. “There is not a single cloud in the sky, the stars are quite clear and bright, but it is raining.” Then another drop fell. The little Swallow decided he’d better move. “What is the use of a statue if it can’t keep the rain off?” he said. “I must rather look for a good chimney-pot.” But before he had opened his wings to fly off, a third drop fell, and he looked up, and saw – Ah! What did he see?

The eyes of the Happy Prince were filled with tears, and tears were running down his golden cheeks. His face was so beautiful in the moonlight that the little Swallow was filled with pity. “Who are you?” he asked. “I am the Happy Prince.” “Why are you weeping then?” asked the Swallow.

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“When I was alive and had a human heart,� answered the statue, “I did not know what tears were, as I lived in the palace where sorrow is not allowed to enter. In the daytime I played with my companions in the garden, and in the evening I led the dance in the Great Hall. Round the garden ran a very high wall, but I never bothered to ask what lay beyond it, because everything around me was so beautiful.

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