by Hans Christian Andersen

translation by H P Paull (1872)

"WHENEVER good child dies, an angel of God comes down from heaven, takes the dead child arms, spreads out his great white wings, and flies over all the places which the child had loved during his life Then he gathers large handful of flowers, which he carries Almighty, may bloom more brightly in heaven than on earth Almighty presses the flowers heart, but He kisses the flower that pleases Him best, and it receives voice, able to join the song chorus of bliss "

These words were spoken by an angel of God, as he carried dead child heaven, child listened in dream Then they passed over well-known spots, where the little one had often played, and through beautiful gardens full of lovely flowers

"Which shall we take to heaven transplanted there ? " asked the angel

Close by grew slender, beautiful, rose-bush, but some wicked hand had broken the stem, half-opened rosebuds hung faded and withered trailing branches

"Poor rose-bush ! " said the child, " take it to heaven, may bloom above in God's garden "

The angel took up the rose-bush; then he kissed the child, little one half opened his eyes The angel gathered also some beautiful flowers, as few humble buttercups and heart's-ease

"Now flowers enough," said the child; but the angel only nodded, fly upward to heaven

night, and quite still great town Here they remained, angel hovered over small, narrow street, lay large heap of straw, ashes, and sweepings houses of people who had removed There lay fragments of plates, pieces of plaster, rags, old hats, and other rubbish not pleasant Amidst all this confusion, the angel pointed pieces of broken flower-pot, and to lump of earth which had fallen out of it The earth kept from falling to pieces roots of withered field-flower, which thrown amongst the rubbish

" take this ," said the angel, " tell you why fly along "

And flew the angel related the history

"Down narrow lane, in low cellar, lived poor sick boy; he afflicted childhood, and even best days just manage to walk up and down the room on crutches , but no more During some days in summer, the sunbeams would lie floor cellar for about half an hour spot the poor sick boy would sit warming himself sunshine, and watching the red blood through his delicate fingers as he held them before his face Then say he out, yet nothing green forest in its spring verdure, till neighbor's son brought him green bough from beech-tree This place over his head, and fancy that beech-wood while the sun shone, birds carolled gayly One spring day the neighbor's boy brought him some field-flowers, and among them was one root still adhered This he carefully planted in flower-pot, and placed in window-seat near his bed flower planted by fortunate hand, grew, put forth fresh shoots, and blossomed every year It became splendid flower-garden sick boy, little treasure upon earth He watered it, and cherished it, and took care it the benefit of every sunbeam that found its way cellar, earliest morning ray evening sunset The flower entwined itself even dreams- for him it bloomed, for him spread its perfume And it gladdened his eyes, and flower he turned, even in death, Lord called him He one year with God During the flower has stood window, withered and forgotten, till cast out sweepings street, day lodgers' removal And this poor flower, withered and faded , added to our nosegay, because it gave more real joy most beautiful flower garden of queen "

"But how all this ? " asked the child whom the angel was carrying to heaven

" it," said the angel, "because I myself poor sick boy who walked upon crutches, and my own flower well "

Then the child opened his eyes and looked glorious happy face angel, and same moment they found themselves heavenly home where all is happiness and joy And God pressed the dead child heart, and wings were given him fly angel, hand in hand Then the Almighty pressed all the flowers heart; but He kissed the withered field-flower, and it received voice Then it joined song angels, who surrounded the throne, some near, and others in distant circle, but all equally happy They all joined chorus of praise, both great and small,- the good, happy child, poor field-flower, that once lay withered and cast away on heap of rubbish in narrow, dark street

THE END