High above the bustling city, on a tall marble column, stood the magnificent statue of the Happy Prince. He was covered in gleaming gold, with bright sapphire eyes and a great red ruby on his sword hilt. From his high perch, he smiled gently down at the world.

Though beautiful outside, the Prince's heart, hidden beneath the metal, ached with sorrow. When he was alive, he never knew sadness. But now, from his high place, he saw all the city's pain: hungry children, cold widows, and mothers weeping.

One evening, a small Swallow flew over the city. He was on his way to warm Egypt for the winter. Feeling tired, he decided to rest for the night right between the large feet of the Happy Prince's statue.

As the Swallow settled down, a drop of water fell onto his head! He looked up and saw that the Prince's sapphire eyes were filled with tears. 'Why do you weep?' asked the little bird. 'Because I see the pain of my city,' the Prince sadly replied.

The Prince told the Swallow about a poor mother with her sick child. 'She has no fire and no food. Please, take the great ruby from my sword hilt and give it to her,' he begged. Though it was cold, the kind Swallow agreed to help.

Under the pale moonlight, the Swallow flew swiftly through the quiet city streets. He carried the sparkling red ruby and gently placed it beside the sleeping mother's hand. The sick child stirred, and the mother's eyes glistened with tears of hope.

The next night, the Prince spoke again: 'There is a hungry writer in a cold attic room, too poor to finish his play. Please, take one of my sapphire eyes to him.' The Swallow gently plucked a sparkling sapphire from the Prince's eye.

The Swallow flew through narrow alleys to the writer's cold garret. He left the glowing sapphire gem right beside the inkpot on the writer's desk. When the writer awoke, he saw the jewel and smiled, believing it was a gift from an admirer.

On the third night, the Prince whispered, 'A little match-girl has dropped her matches in the gutter. She fears her father's disappointment. Give her my other sapphire.' 'But then you will be blind!' said the Swallow. 'Still, give it,' urged the Prince.

The loyal Swallow gently took the second sapphire from the Prince's eye. He flew down to the cold, dark street where the match-girl shivered. He slipped the gem into her small hand. Her tear-streaked face lit up with pure joy as she found the sparkling treasure.

Now the Happy Prince was completely blind, with empty sockets where his beautiful sapphire eyes once were. The Swallow, seeing his friend's sacrifice, declared, 'I cannot leave you now. I will stay here with you.' And so, he perched by the statue's side.

The city still held many in need. Though his jewels were gone, the Prince had one treasure left: his shimmering gold covering. 'Take it, leaf by leaf,' he urged the Swallow, 'and give it to the poor. They need it more than I do.'

The Swallow diligently plucked the thin gold leaves from the Prince's body. He carried them, one by one, through the dark, cold wind to weavers, bakers, and beggars throughout the city. Each leaf brought warmth and a moment of joy to someone in need.

As the gold leaves vanished, the Happy Prince grew dull and gray. His shining beauty faded until only the plain lead metal remained. But below, the city's faces glowed with newfound hope and happiness, thanks to his selfless gifts.

Winter arrived, bringing bitter cold. The little Swallow, now weak and tired, could barely lift his wings. 'Goodbye, dear Prince,' he whispered softly. 'I am going to a long sleep.' He kissed the statue's sculpted lips gently, then fell to the ground, his spirit leaving his body.

At that very moment, the lead heart inside the Happy Prince's statue cracked. It split right in two. The Prince had given everything he had, even his life, through his loyal little friend. Now, his own statue heart could no longer bear the sorrow.

At dawn, the town officials looked up. 'How shabby the Prince looks!' exclaimed the Mayor. They ordered the statue to be torn down and melted. But when they melted the lead, the broken heart would not melt. It was thrown onto a pile of rubbish, beside the dead Swallow.

God called to His angels: 'Bring me the two most precious things in the city.' They brought the broken lead heart of the Prince and the little dead Swallow. God smiled. 'In my garden of Paradise,' He said, 'this little bird shall sing forever, and the Happy Prince shall live in joy eternal.'