When The Bird Of The Heart Begins

A Mermaid Has Not An Immortal Soul, Nor Can She Obtain One Unless She Wins The Love Of A Human Being. On The Power Of Another Hangs Her Eternal Destiny.

Farewell, Farewell," Said The Swallow, With A Heavy Heart, As He Left The Warm Countries, To Fly Back Into Denmark. There He Had A Nest Over The Window Of A House In Which Dwelt The Writer Of Fairy Tales. The Swallow Sang "tweet, Tweet," And From His Song Came The Whole Story.

‎"does All The Beauty Of The World Stop When You Die?" "no," Said The Old Oak; "it Will Last Much Longer - Longer Than I Can Even Think Of." "well, Then," Said The Little May-fly, "we Have The Same Time To Live; Only We Reckon Differently.

Sharp Knives Seemed To Cut Her Delicate Feet, Yet She Hardly Felt Them, So Deep Was The Pain In Her Heart. She Could Not Forget That This Was The Last Night She Would Ever See The One For Whom She Had Left Her Home And Family, Had Given Up Her Beautiful Voice, And Had Day By Day Endured Unending Torment, Of Which He Knew Nothing At All. An Eternal Night Awaited Her.

He Looked At The Little Maiden, And She Looked At Him; And He Felt That He Was Melting Away, But He Still Managed To Keep Himself Erect, Shouldering His Gun Bravely. A Door Was Suddenly Opened, The Draught Caught The Little Dancer And She Fluttered Like A Sylph, Straight Into The Fire, To The Soldier, Blazed Up And Was Gone! By This Time The Soldier Was Reduced To A Mere Lump, And When The Maid Took Away The Ashes Next Morning She Found Him, In The Shape Of A Small Tin Heart. All That Was Left Of The Dancer Was Her Spangle, And That Was Burnt As Black As A Coal.