"A creature like that!" the starling called out. "_He_ wants to go too!" "Such a pair of wings!" said the swallow. "He thinks that with them he can fly to Italy!" And all the birds of passage began to scream at once and laugh at the poor sparrow, who sat quite terrified in the midst of them. "I know quite well," he said humbly, "that I am only a poor little sparrow. But I should so like to see the warm, pleasant lands you are going to. Try to take me with you. I will use my wings as well as ever I can. I implore you to let me come!" "He has some cheek, hasn't he?" said the old stork. "But he shall be allowed to keep his miserable life. Chase him away at once, and then let us be off!" So the birds chased the sparrow away, and he hid his miserable self under the eaves. When the review was over, the birds of passage began to make off. Company after company, they flew away through the air, whilst the sparrow peered out from under the eaves and gazed sadly after them. "Now they have all gone," he said. "No one but me is left behind." "Me too!" screamed the crow. "And me," said the chaffinch. "And me too, if you please," peeped the tomtit. "Yes," said the sparrow, "that is how it is. It is just as the swallow says--all we _poor_ birds must stay here and suffer." * * * * * The winter had come. Over all the fields lay the snow, and there was ice on the water. All the leaves lay dead and shrivelled on the ground; and there were no flowers, except here and there a poor frozen daisy, which stood gleaming white among the yellow grass. And the flies and the gnats, and the butterflies and the cockchafers were dead. The snake lay torpid, and so did the lizard. The frog had gone into his winter quarters at the bottom of the pond, sitting deep in the mud, with only his nose sticking up into the air. And that was how he intended to sit the whole winter through. The birds who had remained behind had not, after all, such a very bad time of it. The crows held great gatherings every evening in the wood, and screamed and chattered so loudly one could hear them ever so far away. The chaffinch and the tomtit hopped about cheerfully enough in the bushes, and picked up what they could find. The sparrow alone was always out of sorts. He sat on the ridge of the roof and hunched himself up, but the whole time he was thinking about the birds of passage. "They are there by this time," he said to himself. "Here we have ice and snow; but down south, in the pleasant, warm countries, they have endless summer. Here I have a job to find even some dry bread; but _there_ they have more than they can manage to eat. Ah, if one only had gone with them!" "Come down and join us," called the chaffinch and the tomtit. But the sparrow shook his head, and remained sitting on the ridge of the roof. "I am consumed with longing, I can't endure it!" he screamed, and he took a long flight to cool his blood.