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发表于 2016-7-11 00:04:50
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earth. "Farewell, you pretty little bird," said she, "farewell;
thank you for your delightful singing during the summer, when all
the trees were green, and the warm sun shone upon us. Then she laid
her head on the bird's breast, but she was alarmed immediately, for it
seemed as if something inside the bird went "thump, thump." It was the bird's heart; he was not really dead, only benumbed with the cold, and the warmth had restored him to life. In autumn, all the swallows fly away into warm countries, but if one happens to linger, the cold
seizes it, it becomes frozen, and falls down as if dead; it remains
where it fell, and the cold snow covers it. Tiny trembled very much;
she was quite frightened, for the bird was large, a great deal
larger than herself,- she was only an inch high. But she took courage,
laid the wool more thickly over the poor swallow, and then took a leaf
which she had used for her own counterpane, and laid it over the
head of the poor bird. The next morning she again stole out to see
him. He was alive but very weak; he could only open his eyes for a
moment to look at Tiny, who stood by holding a piece of decayed wood in her hand, for she had no other lantern. "Thank you, pretty little maiden," said the sick swallow; "I have been so nicely warmed, that I shall soon regain my strength, and be able to fly about again in the warm sunshine."
"Oh," said she, "it is cold out of doors now; it snows and
freezes. Stay in your warm bed; I will take care of you."
Then she brought the swallow some water in a flower-leaf, and
after he had drank, he told her that he had wounded one of his wings
in a thorn-bush, and could not fly as fast as the others, who were
soon far away on their journey to warm countries. Then at last he
had fallen to the earth, and could remember no more, nor how he came to be where she had found him. The whole winter the swallow remained underground, and Tiny nursed him with care and love.
Neither the mole nor the field-mouse knew anything about it, for they did not like swallows. Very soon the spring time came, and the sun warmed the earth. Then the swallow bade farewell to Tiny, and she opened the hole in the ceiling which the mole had made. The sun shone in upon them so beautifully, that the swallow asked her if she would go with him; she could sit on his back, he said, and he would fly away with her into the green woods. But Tiny knew it would make the field-mouse very grieved if she left her in that manner, so she said, "No, I cannot." "Farewell, then, farewell, you good, pretty little maiden," said the swallow; and he flew out into the sunshine.
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