But the mole kicked him with his bandy legs and said : ` Now he ca n't sing any more ! It must be very miserable to be a little bird ! I 'm thankful that none of my little children are ; birds always starve in winter . ' ` Yes , you speak like a sensible man , ' said the field-mouse . ` What has a bird , in spite of all his singing , in the winter-time ? He must starve and freeze , and that must be very pleasant for him , I must say ! ' Thumbelina did not say anything ; but when the other two had passed on she bent down to the bird , brushed aside the feathers from his head , and kissed his closed eyes gently . ` Perhaps it was he that sang to me so prettily in the summer , ' she thought . ` How much pleasure he did give me , dear little bird ! ' The mole closed up the hole again which let in the light , and then escorted the ladies home . But Thumbelina could not sleep that night ; so she got out of bed , and plaited a great big blanket of straw , and carried it off , and spread it over the dead bird , and piled upon it thistle-down as soft as cotton-wool , which she had found in the field-mouse 's room , so that the poor little thing should lie warmly buried . ` Farewell , pretty little bird ! ' she said . ` Farewell , and thank you for your beautiful songs in the summer , when the trees were green , and the sun shone down warmly on us ! ' Then she laid her head against the bird 's heart . But the bird was not dead : he had been frozen , but now that she had warmed him , he was coming to life again . In autumn the swallows fly away to foreign lands ; but there are some who are late in starting , and then they get so cold that they drop down as if dead , and the snow comes and covers them over . Thumbelina trembled , she was so frightened ; for the bird was very large in comparison with herself -- only an inch high . But she took courage , piled up the down more closely over the poor swallow , fetched her own coverlid and laid it over his head . Next night she crept out again to him .
There he was alive , but very weak ; he could only open his XXXXX for a moment and look at Thumbelina , who was standing in front of him with a piece of rotten wood in her hand , for she had no other lantern .
Farewell autumn bed eyes head lands man night singing songs