one would have thought that something important was going
on in the duck-pond, but it was nothing after all. all the
ducks lying quietly on the water or standing on their heads in
it- for they could do that- at once swarm to the sides; the
traces of their feet were seen in the wet earth, and their
cackling was heard far and wide. the water, which a few
moments before had been as clear and smooth as a mirror,
became very troubled. before, every tree, every neighbouring
bush, the old farmhouse with the holes in the roof and the
swallows' nest, and especially the great rose-bush full of
flowers, had been reflected in it. the rose-bush covered the
wall and hung out over the water, in which everything was seen
as if in a picture, except that it all stood on its head; but
when the water was troubled everything got mixed up, and the
picture was gone. two feathers which the fluttering ducks had
lost floated up and down; suddenly they took a rush as if the
wind were coming, but as it did not come they had to lie
still, and the water once more became quiet and smooth. the
roses were again reflected; they were very beautiful, but they
did not know it, for no one had told them. the sun shone among
the delicate leaves; everything breathed forth the loveliest
fragrance, and all felt as we do when we are filled with joy
at the thought of our happiness.

"how beautiful existence is!" said each rose. "the only
thing that i wish for is to be able to kiss the sun, because
it is so warm and bright. i should also like to kiss those
roses down in the water, which are so much like us, and the
pretty little birds down in the nest. there are some up above
too; they put out their heads and pipe softly; they have no
feathers like their father and mother. we have good
neighbours, both below and above. how beautiful existence is!"

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