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t trembled all over with ecstasy， and opened its petals to the cold morning air。 Echo bore it to her purple cavern in the hills， and woke the sleeping shepherds from their dreams。 It floated through the reeds of the river， and they carried its message to the sea。
“Look， look！” cried the Tree， “the rose is finished now；” but the Nightingale made no answer， for she was lying dead in the long grass， with the thorn in her heart。
And at noon the Student opened his window and looked out。
“Why， what a wonderful piece of luck！” he cried； “here is a red rose！ I have never seen any rose like it in all my life。 It is so beautiful that I am sure it has a long Latin name；” and he leaned down and plucked it。
Then he put on his hat， and ran up to the Professor’s house with the rose in his hand。
The daughter of the Professor was sitting in the doorway winding blue silk on a reel， and her little dog was lying at her feet。
“You said that you would dance with me if I brought you a red rose，” cried the Student。 “Here is the reddest rose in all the world。 You will wear it tonight next your heart， and as we dance together it will tell you how I love you。”
But the girl frowned。
“I am afraid it will not go with my dress，” she answered； “and， besides， the Chamberlain’s nephew has sent me some real jewels， and everybody knows that jewels cost far more than flowers。”
“Well， upon my word， you are very ungrateful，” said the Student angrily； and he threw the rose into the street， where it fell into the gutter， and a cart…wheel went over it。
“Ungrateful！” said the girl。 “I tell you what， you are very rude； and， after all， who are you？ Only a Student。 Why， I don’t believe you have even got silver buckles to your shoes as the Chamberlain’s nephew has；” and she got up from her chair and went into the house。
“What I a silly thing Love is，” said the Student as he walked away。 “It is not half as useful as Logic， for it does not prove anything， and it is always telling one of things that are not going to happen， and making one believe things that are not true。 In fact， it is quite unpractical， and， as in this age to be practical is everything， I shall go back to Philosophy and study Metaphysics。”
So he returned to his room and pulled out a great dusty book， and began to read。
★、The Happy Prince
High above the city， on a tall column， stood the statue of the Happy Prince。 He was gilded all over with thin leaves of fine gold， for eyes he had two bright sapphires， and a large red ruby glowed on his sword…hilt。
He was very much admired indeed。 “He is as beautiful as a weathercock，” remarked one of the Town Councillors who wished to gain a reputation for having artistic tastes； “only not quite so useful，” he added， fearing lest people should think him unpractical， which he really was not。
“Why can’t you be like the Happy Prince？” asked a sensible mother of her little boy who was crying for the moon。 “The Happy Prince never dreams of crying for anything。”
“I am glad there is some one in the world who is quite happy，” muttered a disappointed man as he gazed at the wonderful statue。
“He looks just like an angel，” said the Charity Children as they came out of the cathedral in their bright scarlet cloaks and their clean white pinafores。
“How do you know？” said the Mathematical Master， “you have never seen one。”
“Ah！ but we have， in our dreams，” answered the children； and the Mathematical Master frowned and looked very severe， for he did not approve of children dreaming。
One night there flew over the city a little Swallow。 His friends had gone away to Egypt six weeks before， but he had stayed behind， for he was in love with the most beautiful Reed。 He had met her early in the spring as he was flying down the river after a big yellow moth， and had been so attracted by her slender waist that he had stopped to talk to her。
“Shall I love you？” said the Swallow， who liked to e to the point at once， and the Reed made him a low bow。 So he flew round and round her， touching the water with his wings， and making silver ripples。 This was his courtship， and it lasted all through the summer。
“It is a ridiculous attachment，” twittered the other Swallows； “she has no money， and far too many relations；” and indeed the river was quite full of Reeds。 Then， when the autumn came they all flew away。
After they had gone he felt lonely， and began to tire of his lady love。 “She has no conversation，” he said， “and I am afraid that she is a coquette， for she is always flirting with the wind。” And certainly， whenever the wind blew， the Reed made the most graceful curtseys。 “I admit that she is domestic，” he continued， “but I love travelling， and my wife， consequently， should love travelling also。”
“Will you e away with me？” he said finally to her； but the Reed shook her head， she was so attached to her home。
“You have been trifling with me，” he cried。 “I am off to the Pyramids。 Good…bye！” and he flew away。
All day long he flew， and at night…time he arrived at the city。 “Where shall I put up？” he said； “I hope the town has made preparations。”
Then he saw the statue on the tall column。
“I will put up there，” he cried； “it is a fine position， with plenty of fresh air。” So he alighted just between the feet of the Happy Prince。
“I have a golden bedroom，” he said softly to himself as he looked round， and he prepared to go to sleep； but just as he was putting his head under his wing 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， and yet it is raining。 The climate in the north of Europe is really dreadful。 The Reed used to like the rain， but that was merely her selfishness。”
Then another drop fell。
“What is the use of a statue if it cannot keep the rain off ？” he said； “I must look for a good chimney…pot，” and he determined to fly away。
But before he had opened his wings， 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 said。
“I am the Happy Prince。”
“Why are you weeping then？” asked the Swallow； “you have quite drenched me。”
“When I was alive and had a human heart，” answered the statue， “I did not know what tears were， for I lived in the Palace of Sans…Souci， where sorrow is not allowed to enter。 In the daytime I played with my panions in the garden， and in the evening I led the dance in the Great Hall。 Round the garden ran a very lofty wall， but I never cared to ask what lay beyond it， everything about me was so beautiful。 My courtiers called me the Happy Prince， and happy indeed I was， if pleasure be happiness。 So I lived， and so I died。 And now that I am dead they have set me up here so high that I can see all the ugliness and all the misery of my city， and though my heart is made of lead yet I cannot chose but weep。”
“What！ is he not solid gold？” said the Swallow to himself。 He was too polite to make any personal remarks out loud。
“Far away，” continued the statue in a low musical voice， “far away in a little street there is a poor house。 One of the windows is open， and through it I can see a woman seated at a table。 Her face is thin and worn， and she has coarse， red hands， all pricked by the needle， for she is a seamstress。 She is embroidering passion…flowers on a satin gown for the loveliest of the Queen’s maids…of…honour to wear at the next Court…ball。 In a bed in the corner of the room her little boy is lying ill。 He has a fever， and is asking for oranges。 His mother has nothing to give him but river water， so he is crying。 Swallow， Swallow， little Swallow， will you not bring her the ruby out of my sword…hilt？ My feet are fastened to this pedestal and I cannot move。”
“I am waited for in Egypt，” said the Swallow。 “My friends are flying up and down the Nile， and talking to the large lotus…flowers。 Soon they will go to sleep i