The Snow Man Page #2

The Snow Man is a short fairy tale by Hans Christian Andersen that tells the story of a snowman who falls in love with a stove. He longs for the warmth and coziness that the stove represents, despite never being able to experience it without melting. It's a heartbreaking tale of unrequited love and yearning for something that's always out of reach. The story is also a reflection on the transitory nature of life and the inevitability of death.

• Children

								

Don't you hear how hoarse I am. Away, away! I can't talk any more like
other dogs. Away, away, that is the end of it all."

But the Snow Man was no longer listening. He was looking into
the housekeeper's room on the lower storey; where the stove stood on
its four iron legs, looking about the same size as the Snow Man
himself. "What a strange crackling I feel within me," he said.
"Shall I ever get in there? It is an innocent wish, and innocent
wishes are sure to be fulfilled. I must go in there and lean against
her, even if I have to break the window."

"You must never go in there," said the yard-dog, "for if you
approach the stove, you'll melt away, away."

"I might as well go," said the Snow Man, "for I think I am
breaking up as it is."

During the whole day the Snow Man stood looking in through the
window, and in the twilight hour the room became still more
inviting, for from the stove came a gentle glow, not like the sun or
the moon; no, only the bright light which gleams from a stove when
it has been well fed. When the door of the stove was opened, the
flames darted out of its mouth; this is customary with all stoves. The
light of the flames fell directly on the face and breast of the Snow
Man with a ruddy gleam. "I can endure it no longer," said he; "how
beautiful it looks when it stretches out its tongue?"

The night was long, but did not appear so to the Snow Man, who
stood there enjoying his own reflections, and crackling with the cold.
In the morning, the window-panes of the housekeeper's room were
covered with ice. They were the most beautiful ice-flowers any Snow
Man could desire, but they concealed the stove. These window-panes
would not thaw, and he could see nothing of the stove, which he
pictured to himself, as if it had been a lovely human being. The
snow crackled and the wind whistled around him; it was just the kind
of frosty weather a Snow Man might thoroughly enjoy. But he did not
enjoy it; how, indeed, could he enjoy anything when he was "stove
sick?"

"That is terrible disease for a Snow Man," said the yard-dog; "I
have suffered from it myself, but I got over it. Away, away," he
barked and then he added, "the weather is going to change." And the
weather did change; it began to thaw. As the warmth increased, the
Snow Man decreased. He said nothing and made no complaint, which is
a sure sign. One morning he broke, and sunk down altogether; and,
behold, where he had stood, something like a broomstick remained
sticking up in the ground. It was the pole round which the boys had
built him up. "Ah, now I understand why he had such a great longing
for the stove," said the yard-dog. "Why, there's the shovel that is
used for cleaning out the stove, fastened to the pole." The Snow Man
had a stove scraper in his body; that was what moved him so. "But it's
all over now. Away, away." And soon the winter passed. "Away, away,"
barked the hoarse yard-dog. But the girls in the house sang,

  "Come from your fragrant home, green thyme;
    Stretch your soft branches, willow-tree;
  The months are bringing the sweet spring-time,
    When the lark in the sky sings joyfully.
  Come gentle sun, while the cuckoo sings,
  And I'll mock his note in my wanderings."


And nobody thought any more of the Snow Man.
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