Der glückliche Prinz

High above the city, on a tall column, stood the statue of the Happy Prince. He was covered all over with thin leaves of gold. For eyes he had two bright blue sapphires, and a large red ruby shone on the handle of his sword.

Everybody admired him very much. "He is as beautiful as a weathervane," said one of the Town Councillors, who wanted people to think that he understood art. "Only not quite as useful," he added, because he was afraid people might think he was not practical. And he really was very practical.

"Why can't you be like the Happy Prince?" a sensible mother asked her little boy, who was crying for the moon. "The Happy Prince never cries for anything."

"I am glad there is someone in the world who is quite happy," said a disappointed man quietly, as he looked up at the wonderful statue.