THE SELFISH GIANT ðə ˈsɛlfɪʃ ˈʤaɪənt

By Oscar Wilde baɪ ˈɔskər waɪld

Every afternoon, as they were coming from school, the ˈɛvri ˌæftərˈnun, æz ðeɪ wɜr ˈkʌmɪŋ frʌm skul, ðə ˈʧɪldrən
children used to go and play in the Giant’s garden. It juzd tu goʊ ænd pleɪ ɪn ðə ˈʤaɪənts ˈgɑrdən. ɪt wʌz ə lɑrʤ
was a large lovely garden, with soft green grass. Here ˈlʌvliˈgɑrdən, wɪð sɑft grin græs. hir ænd ðɛr ˈoʊvər ðə græs
and there over the grass stood beautiful flowers like stʊd ˈbjutəfəl ˈflaʊərz laɪk stɑrz,ænd ðɛr wɜr twɛlv piʧ-triz
stars, and there were twelve peach-trees that in the ðæt ɪn ðə sprɪŋ taɪm broʊk aʊt ˈɪntu ˈdɛləkət ˈblɑsəmz ʌv
spring-time broke out into delicate blossoms of pink pɪŋk ænd pɜrl, ænd ɪn ði ˈɔtəm bɔr rɪʧ frut. ðə bɜrdz sæt ɑn
and pearl, and in the autumn bore rich fruit. The birds ðə triz ænd sæŋ soʊ ˈswitli ðæt ðə ˈʧɪldrən juzd tu stɑp ðɛr
sat on the trees and sang so sweetly that the children geɪmz ɪn ˈɔrdər tu ˈlɪsən tu ðɛm. “haʊ ˈhæpi wi ɑr hir!” ðeɪ
used to stop their games in order to listen to them. kraɪd tu iʧ ˈʌðər.
“How happy we are here!” they cried to each other. wʌn deɪ ðə ˈʤaɪənt keɪm bæk. hi hæd bɪn tu ˈvɪzət hɪz frɛnd
One day the Giant came back. He had been to visit his ðə ˈkɔrnɪʃ ˈoʊgər, ænd hæd steɪd wɪð hɪm fɔr ˈsɛvən jɪrz.
friend the Cornish ogre, and had stayed with him for ˈæftər ðə ˈsɛvən jɪrz wɜr ˈoʊvər hi hæd sɛd ɔl ðæt hi hæd tu
seven years. After the seven years were over he had seɪ, fɔr hɪz ˌkɑnvərˈseɪʃən wʌz ˈlɪmətəd, ænd hi dɪˈtɜrmənd
said all that he had to say, for his conversation was tu rɪˈtɜrn tu hɪz oʊn ˈkæsəl. wɛn hi əˈraɪvd hi sɔ ðə ˈʧɪldrən
limited, and he determined to return to his own castle. ˈpleɪɪŋ ɪn ðə ˈgɑrdən.
When he arrived he saw the children playing in the “wʌt ɑr ju ˈduɪŋ hir?” hi kraɪd ɪn ə ˈvɛri grʌf vɔɪs, ænd ðə
garden. ˈʧɪldrən ræn əˈweɪ.“maɪ oʊn ˈgɑrdən ɪz maɪ oʊn ˈgɑrdən,”
“What are you doing here?” he cried in a very gruff sɛd ðəˈʤaɪənt; “ˈɛni wʌn kæn ˌʌndərˈstænd ðæt, ænd aɪ wɪl
voice, and the children ran away. “My own garden is my əˈlaʊ ˈnoʊbɑdi tu pleɪ ɪn ɪt bʌt ˌmaɪˈsɛlf.” soʊ hi bɪlt ə haɪ wɔl
own garden,” said the Giant; “any one can understand ɔl raʊnd ɪt, ænd pʊt ʌp ə ˈnoʊtəs-bɔrd.
that, and I will allow nobody to play in it but myself.” ˈtrɛˌspæsərz wɪl bi ˈprɑsɪˌkjutɪd
So he built a high wall all round it, and put up a hi wʌz ə ˈvɛri ˈsɛlfɪʃ ˈʤaɪənt. ðə pur ˈʧɪldrən hæd naʊ ˈnoʊ
notice-board. ˌwɛr tu pleɪ. ðeɪ traɪd tu pleɪ ɑn ðə roʊd, bʌt ðə roʊd wʌz
TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED ˈvɛri ˈdʌsti ænd fʊl ʌv hɑrd stoʊnz, ænd ðeɪ dɪd nɑt laɪk ɪt.
He was a very selfish Giant. The poor children had now ðeɪ juzd tu ˈwɑndər raʊnd ðə haɪ wɔl wɛn ðɛr ˈlɛsənz wɜr
nowhere to play. They tried to play on the road, but the ˈoʊvər, ænd tɔk əˈbaʊt ðə ˈbjutəfəl ˈgɑrdən ɪnˈsaɪd. “haʊ
road was very dusty and full of hard stones, and they ˈhæpi wi wɜr ðɛr,” ðeɪ sɛd tu iʧ ˈʌðər.
did not like it. They used to wander round the high wall
when their lessons were over, and talk about the
beautiful garden inside. “How happy we were there,”
they said to each other.
Then the Spring came, and all over the country there ðɛn ðə sprɪŋ keɪm, ænd ɔl ˈoʊvər ðə ˈkʌntri ðɛr wɜr ˈlɪtəl
were little blossoms and little birds. Only in the garden ˈblɑsəmz ænd ˈlɪtəl bɜrdz. ˈoʊnli ɪn ðə ˈgɑrdən ʌv ðə ˈsɛlfɪʃ
of the Selfish Giant it was still winter. The birds did not ˈʤaɪənt ɪt wʌz stɪl ˈwɪntər. ðə bɜrdz dɪd nɑt kɛr tu sɪŋ ɪn ɪt
care to sing in it as there were no children, and the æz ðɛr wɜr noʊ ˈʧɪldrən, ænd ðə triz fərˈgɑt tu ˈblɑsəm.
trees forgot to blossom. Once a beautiful flower put its wʌns ə ˈbjutəfəl ˈflaʊər pʊt ɪts hɛd aʊt frʌm ðə græs, bʌt wɛn
head out from the grass, but when it saw the notice- ɪt sɔ ðə ˈnoʊtəs-bɔrd ɪt wʌz soʊ ˈsɑri fɔr ðə ˈʧɪldrən ðæt ɪt
board it was so sorry for the children that it slipped slɪpt bæk ˈɪntu ðə graʊnd əˈgɛn, ænd wɛnt ɔf tu slip. ði
back into the ground again, and went off to sleep. The ˈoʊnli ˈpipəl hu wɜr plizd wɜr ðə snoʊ ænd ðə frɔst. “sprɪŋ
only people who were pleased were the Snow and the hæz fərˈgɑtən ðɪs ˈgɑrdən,” ðeɪ kraɪd, “soʊ wi wɪl lɪv hir ɔl
Frost. “Spring has forgotten this garden,” they cried, ðə jɪr raʊnd.” ðə snoʊ ˈkʌvərd ʌp ðə græs wɪð hɜr greɪt waɪt
“so we will live here all the year round.” The Snow kloʊk, ænd ðə frɔst ˈpeɪntəd ɔl ðə triz ˈsɪlvər. ðɛn ðeɪ ɪn
covered up the grass with her great white cloak, and ˈvaɪtəd ðə nɔrθ wɪnd tu steɪ wɪð ðɛm, ænd hi keɪm. hi wʌz
the Frost painted all the trees silver. Then they invited ræpt ɪn fɜrz, ænd hi rɔrd ɔl deɪ əˈbaʊt ðə ˈgɑrdən, ænd blu
the North Wind to stay with them, and he came. He ðə ˈʧɪmni-pɑts daʊn. “ðɪs ɪz ə dɪˈlaɪtfəl spɑt,” hi sɛd, “wi mʌst
was wrapped in furs, and he roared all day about the æsk ðə heɪl ɑn ə ˈvɪzət.” soʊ ðə heɪl keɪm. ˈɛvri deɪ fɔr θri
garden, and blew the chimney-pots down. “This is a ˈaʊərz hi ˈrætəld ɑn ðə ruf ʌv ðə ˈkæsəl tɪl hi broʊk moʊst ʌv
delightful spot,” he said, “We must ask the Hail on a ðə sleɪts, ænd ðɛn hi ræn raʊnd ænd raʊnd ðə ˈgɑrdən æz
visit.” So the Hail came. Every day for three hours he fæst æz hi kʊd goʊ. hi wʌz drɛst ɪn greɪ, ænd hɪz brɛθ wʌz
rattled on the roof of the castle till he broke most of the laɪk aɪs.
slates, and then he ran round and round the garden as “aɪ ˈkænɑt ˌʌndərˈstænd waɪ ðə sprɪŋ ɪz soʊ leɪt ɪn ˈkʌmɪŋ,”
fast as he could go. He was dressed in grey, and his sɛd ðə ˈsɛlfɪʃ ˈʤaɪənt, æz hi sæt æt ðə ˈwɪndoʊ ænd lʊkt aʊt
breath was like ice. æt hɪz koʊld waɪt ˈgɑrdən; “aɪ hoʊp ðɛr wɪl bi ə ʧeɪnʤ ɪn ðə
“I cannot understand why the Spring is so late in ˈwɛðər.”
coming,” said the Selfish Giant, as he sat at the window bʌt ðə sprɪŋ ˈnɛvər keɪm, nɔr ðə ˈsʌmər. ði ˈɔtəm geɪv
and looked out at his cold white garden; “I hope there ˈgoʊldən frut tu ˈɛvri ˈgɑrdən, bʌt tu ðə ˈʤaɪənts ˈgɑrdən ʃi
will be a change in the weather.” geɪv nʌn. “hi ɪz tu ˈsɛlfɪʃ,” ʃi sɛd. soʊ ɪt wʌz ˈɔlˌweɪz ˈwɪntər
ðɛr, ænd ðə nɔrθ wɪnd, ænd ðə heɪl, ænd ðə frɔst, ænd ðə
But the Spring never came, nor the Summer. The
snoʊ dænst əˈbaʊt θru ðə triz.
Autumn gave golden fruit to every garden, but to the
wʌn ˈmɔrnɪŋ ðə ˈʤaɪənt wʌz ˈlaɪɪŋ əˈweɪk ɪn bɛd wɛn hi
Giant’s garden she gave none. “He is too selfish,” she
hɜrd sʌm ˈlʌvli ˈmjuzɪk. ɪt ˈsaʊndəd soʊ swit tu hɪz ɪrz ðæt hi
said. So it was always Winter there, and the North
θɔt ɪt mʌst bi ðə kɪŋz mjuˈzɪʃənz ˈpæsɪŋ baɪ. ɪt wʌz ˈrɪli
Wind, and the Hail, and the Frost, and the Snow
ˈoʊnli ə ˈlɪtəl ˈlɪnɪt ˈsɪŋɪŋ ˈaʊtˈsaɪd hɪz ˈwɪndoʊ, bʌt ɪt wʌz
danced about through the trees.
soʊ lɔŋ sɪns hi hæd hɜrd ə bɜrd ˈsɪŋɪŋ ɪn hɪz ˈgɑrdən ðæt ɪt
One morning the Giant was lying awake in bed when he
simd tu hɪm tu bi ðə moʊst ˈbjutəfəl ˈmjuzɪk ɪn ðə wɜrld. ðɛn
heard some lovely music. It sounded so sweet to his
ðə heɪl stɑpt ˈdænsɪŋ ˈoʊvər hɪz hɛd, ænd ðə nɔrθ wɪnd sist
ears that he thought it must be the King’s musicians
passing by. It was really only a little linnet singing ˈrɔrɪŋ, ænd ə dɪˈlɪʃəs ˈpɜrfjum keɪm tu hɪm θru ði ˈoʊpən
outside his window, but it was so long since he had ˈkeɪsmənt. “aɪ bɪˈliv ðə sprɪŋ hæz kʌm æt læst,” sɛd ðə
heard a bird sing in his garden that it seemed to him to ˈʤaɪənt; ænd hi ʤʌmpt aʊt ʌv bɛd ænd lʊkt aʊt.
be the most beautiful music in the world. Then the Hail wʌt dɪd hi si? hi sɔ ə moʊst ˈwʌndərfəl saɪt. θru ə ˈlɪtəl hoʊl
stopped dancing over his head, and the North Wind ɪn ðə wɔl ðə ˈʧɪldrən hæd krɛpt ɪn, ænd ðeɪ wɜr ˈsɪtɪŋ ɪn ðə
ceased roaring, and a delicious perfume came to him ˈbrænʧəz ʌv ðə triz. ɪn ˈɛvri tri ðæt hi kʊd si ðɛr wʌz ə ˈlɪtəl
through the open casement. “I believe the Spring has ʧaɪld. ænd ðə triz wɜr soʊ glæd tu hæv ðə ˈʧɪldrən bæk ə
come at last,” said the Giant; and he jumped out of bed ˈgɛn ðæt ðeɪ hæd ˈkʌvərd ðɛmˈsɛlvz wɪð ˈblɑsəmz, ænd wɜr
and looked out. ˈweɪvɪŋ ðɛr ɑrmz ˈʤɛntli əˈbʌv ðə ˈʧɪldrənz hɛdz. ðə bɜrdz
What did he see? He saw a most wonderful sight. wɜr ˈflaɪɪŋ əˈbaʊt ænd ˈtwɪtərɪŋ wɪð dɪˈlaɪt, ænd ðə ˈflaʊərz
Through a little hole in the wall the children had crept wɜr ˈlʊkɪŋ ʌp θru ðə grin græs ænd ˈlæfɪŋ. ɪt wʌz ə ˈlʌvli sin,
in, and they were sitting in the branches of the trees. In ˈoʊnli ɪn wʌn ˈkɔrnər ɪt wʌz stɪl ˈwɪntər. ɪt wʌz ðə ˈfɑrðəst
every tree that he could see there was a little child. And ˈkɔrnər ʌv ðə ˈgɑrdən, ænd ɪn ɪt wʌz ˈstændɪŋ ə ˈlɪtəl bɔɪ. hi
the trees were so glad to have the children back again wʌz soʊ smɔl ðæt hi kʊd nɑt riʧ ʌp tu ðə ˈbrænʧəz ʌv ðə tri,
that they had covered themselves with blossoms, and ænd hi wʌz ˈwɑndərɪŋ ɔl raʊnd ɪt, ˈkraɪɪŋ ˈbɪtərli. ðə pur tri
were waving their arms gently above the children’s wʌz stɪl kwaɪt ˈkʌvərd wɪð frɔst ænd snoʊ, ænd ðə nɔrθ
heads. The birds were flying about and twittering with wɪnd wʌz ˈbloʊɪŋ ænd ˈrɔrɪŋ əˈbʌv ɪt. “klaɪm ʌp! ˈlɪtəl bɔɪ,”
delight, and the flowers were looking up through the sɛd ðə tri, ænd ɪt bɛnt ɪts ˈbrænʧəz daʊn æz loʊ æz ɪt kʊd;
green grass and laughing. It was a lovely scene, only in bʌt ðə bɔɪ wʌz tu ˈtaɪni.
one corner it was still winter. It was the farthest corner ænd ðə ˈʤaɪənts hɑrt ˈmɛltəd æz hi lʊkt aʊt. “haʊ ˈsɛlfɪʃ aɪ
of the garden, and in it was standing a little boy. He hæv bɪn!” hi sɛd; “naʊ aɪ noʊ waɪ ðə sprɪŋ wʊd nɑt kʌm hir.
was so small that he could not reach up to the aɪ wɪl pʊt ðæt pur ˈlɪtəl bɔɪ ɑn ðə tɑp ʌv ðə tri, ænd ðɛn aɪ
branches of the tree, and he was wandering all round wɪl nɑk daʊn ðə wɔl, ænd maɪ ˈgɑrdən ʃæl bi ðə ˈʧɪldrənz
it, crying bitterly. The poor tree was still quite covered ˈpleɪˌgraʊnd fəˈrɛvər ænd ˈɛvər.” hi wʌz ˈrɪli ˈvɛri ˈsɑri fɔr wʌt
with frost and snow, and the North Wind was blowing hi hæd dʌn.
and roaring above it. “Climb up! little boy,” said the soʊ hi krɛpt ˈdaʊnˈstɛrz ænd ˈoʊpənd ðə frʌnt dɔr kwaɪt
ˈsɔftli, ænd wɛnt aʊt ˈɪntu ðə ˈgɑrdən. bʌt wɛn ðə ˈʧɪldrən sɔ
Tree, and it bent its branches down as low as it could;
hɪm ðeɪ wɜr soʊ ˈfraɪtənd ðæt ðeɪ ɔl ræn əˈweɪ ænd ðə
but the boy was too tiny.
ˈgɑrdən bɪˈkeɪm ˈwɪntər əˈgɛn. ˈoʊnli ðə ˈlɪtəl bɔɪ dɪd nɑt
And the Giant’s heart melted as he looked out. “How
rʌn, fɔr hɪz aɪz wɜr soʊ fʊl ʌv tɛrz ðæt hi dɪd nɑt si ðə
selfish I have been!” he said; “now I know why the
ˈʤaɪənt ˈkʌmɪŋ. ænd ðə ˈʤaɪənt stoʊl ʌp bɪˈhaɪnd hɪm ænd
Spring would not come here. I will put that poor little
tʊk hɪm ˈʤɛntli ɪn hɪz hænd, ænd pʊt hɪm ʌp ˈɪntu ðə tri.
boy on the top of the tree, and then I will knock down
ænd ðə tri broʊk æt wʌns ˈɪntu ˈblɑsəm, ænd ðə bɜrdz keɪm
the wall, and my garden shall be the children’s
ænd sæŋ ɑn ɪt, ænd ðə ˈlɪtəl bɔɪ strɛʧt aʊt hɪz tu ɑrmz ænd
playground forever and ever.” He was really very sorry
flʌŋ ðɛm raʊnd ðə ˈʤaɪənts nɛk, ænd kɪst hɪm. ænd ði ˈʌðər
for what he had done.
So he crept downstairs and opened the front door quite ˈʧɪldrən, wɛn ðeɪ sɔ ðæt ðə ˈʤaɪənt wʌz nɑt ˈwɪkəd ˈɛni
softly, and went out into the garden. But when the ˈlɔŋgər, keɪm ˈrʌnɪŋ bæk, ænd wɪð ðɛm keɪm ðə sprɪŋ. “ɪt ɪz
children saw him they were so frightened that they all jʊər ˈgɑrdən naʊ, ˈlɪtəl ˈʧɪldrən,” sɛd ðə ˈʤaɪənt, ænd hi tʊk
ran away and the garden became winter again. Only ə greɪt æks ænd nɑkt daʊn ðə wɔl. ænd wɛn ðə ˈpipəl wɜr
the little boy did not run, for his eyes were so full of ˈgoʊɪŋ tu ˈmɑrkət æt twɛlv əˈklɑk ðeɪ faʊnd ðə ˈʤaɪənt
tears that he did not see the Giant coming. And the ˈpleɪɪŋ wɪð ðə ˈʧɪldrən ɪn ðə moʊst ˈbjutəfəl ˈgɑrdən ðeɪ
Giant stole up behind him and took him gently in his hæd ˈɛvər sin.
hand, and put him up into the tree. And the tree broke ɔl deɪ lɔŋ ðeɪ pleɪd, ænd ɪn ði ˈivnɪŋ ðeɪ keɪm tu ðə ˈʤaɪənt
at once into blossom, and the birds came and sang on tu bɪd hɪm gʊd baɪ. “bʌt wɛr ɪz jʊər ˈlɪtəl kəmˈpænjən?” hi
it, and the little boy stretched out his two arms and sɛd: “ðə bɔɪ aɪ pʊt ˈɪntu ðə tri.” ðə ˈʤaɪənt lʌvd hɪm ðə bɛst
flung them round the Giant’s neck, and kissed him. bɪˈkɔz hi hæd kɪst hɪm.
And the other children, when they saw that the Giant “wi doʊnt noʊ,” ˈænsərd ðə ˈʧɪldrən; “hi hæz gɔn əˈweɪ.” “ju
was not wicked any longer, came running back, and mʌst tɛl hɪm tu bi ʃʊr ænd kʌm hir tuˈmɑroʊ,” sɛd ðə ˈʤaɪənt.
with them came the Spring. “It is your garden now, bʌt ðə ˈʧɪldrən sɛd ðæt ðeɪ dɪd nɑt noʊ wɛr hi lɪvd, ænd hæd
little children,” said the Giant, and he took a great axe ˈnɛvər sin hɪm bɪˈfɔr; ænd ðə ˈʤaɪənt fɛlt ˈvɛri sæd.
and knocked down the wall. And when the people were ˈɛvri ˌæftərˈnun, wɛn skul wʌz ˈoʊvər, ðə ˈʧɪldrən keɪm ænd
going to market at twelve o’clock they found the Giant pleɪd wɪð ðə ˈʤaɪənt. bʌt ðə ˈlɪtəl bɔɪ hum ðə ˈʤaɪənt lʌvd
playing with the children in the most beautiful garden wʌz ˈnɛvər sin əˈgɛn. ðə ˈʤaɪənt wʌz ˈvɛri kaɪnd tu ɔl ðə
they had ever seen. ˈʧɪldrən, jɛt hi lɔŋd fɔr hɪz fɜrst ˈlɪtəl frɛnd, ænd ˈɔfən spoʊk
All day long they played, and in the evening they came ʌv hɪm. “haʊ aɪ wʊd laɪk tu si hɪm!” hi juzd tu seɪ.
to the Giant to bid him good-bye. “But where is your jɪrz wɛnt ˈoʊvər, ænd ðə ˈʤaɪənt gru ˈvɛri oʊld ænd ˈfibəl. hi
little companion?” he said: “the boy I put into the tree.” kʊd nɑt pleɪ əˈbaʊt ˈɛni mɔr, soʊ hi sæt ɪn ə hjuʤ ˈɑrmˌʧɛr,
The Giant loved him the best because he had kissed ænd wɑʧt ðə ˈʧɪldrən æt ðɛr geɪmz, ænd ədˈmaɪərd hɪz
him. ˈgɑrdən. “aɪ hæv ˈmɛni ˈbjutəfəl ˈflaʊərz,” hi sɛd; “bʌt ðə
“We don’t know,” answered the children; “he has gone ˈʧɪldrən ɑr ðə moʊst ˈbjutəfəl ˈflaʊərz ʌv ɔl.”
away.” “You must tell him to be sure and come here wʌn ˈwɪntər ˈmɔrnɪŋ hi lʊkt aʊt ʌv hɪz ˈwɪndoʊ æz hi wʌz
ˈdrɛsɪŋ. hi dɪd nɑt heɪt ðə ˈwɪntər naʊ, fɔr hi njuː ðæt ɪt wʌz
tomorrow,” said the Giant. But the children said that
ˈmɪrli ðə sprɪŋ əˈslip, ænd ðæt ðə ˈflaʊərz wɜr ˈrɛstɪŋ.
they did not know where he lived, and had never seen
ˈsʌdənli hi rʌbd hɪz aɪz ɪn ˈwʌndər, ænd lʊkt ænd lʊkt. ɪt
him before; and the Giant felt very sad.
ˈsɜrtənli wʌz ə ˈmɑrvələs saɪt. ɪn ðə ˈfɑrðəst ˈkɔrnər ʌv ðə
Every afternoon, when school was over, the children
ˈgɑrdən wʌz ə tri kwaɪt ˈkʌvərd wɪð ˈlʌvli waɪt ˈblɑsəmz. ɪts
came and played with the Giant. But the little boy
ˈbrænʧəz wɜr ɔl ˈgoʊldən, ænd ˈsɪlvər frut hʌŋ daʊn frʌm
whom the Giant loved was never seen again. The Giant
ðɛm, ænd ˌʌndərˈniθ ɪt stʊd ðə ˈlɪtəl bɔɪ hi hæd lʌvd.
was very kind to all the children, yet he longed for his
ˈdaʊnˈstɛrz ræn ðə ˈʤaɪənt ɪn greɪt ʤɔɪ, ænd aʊt ˈɪntu ðə
first little friend, and often spoke of him. “How I would
ˈgɑrdən. hi ˈheɪsənd əˈkrɔs ðə græs, ænd keɪm nɪr tu ðə
like to see him!” he used to say.
Years went over, and the Giant grew very old and ʧaɪld. ænd wɛn hi keɪm kwaɪt kloʊs hɪz feɪs gru rɛd wɪð
feeble. He could not play about any more, so he sat in a ˈæŋgər, ænd hi sɛd, “hu hæθ dɛrd tu wund ði?” fɔr ɑn ðə
huge armchair, and watched the children at their pɑmz ʌv ðə ʧaɪldz hændz wɜr ðə prɪnts ʌv tu neɪlz, ænd ðə
games, and admired his garden. “I have many beautiful prɪnts ʌv tu neɪlz wɜr ɑn ðə ˈlɪtəl fit.
flowers,” he said; “but the children are the most “hu hæθ dɛrd tu wund ði?” kraɪd ðə ˈʤaɪənt; “tɛl mi, ðæt aɪ
beautiful flowers of all.” meɪ teɪk maɪ bɪg sɔrd ænd sleɪ hɪm.” “neɪ!” ˈænsərd ðə
One winter morning he looked out of his window as he ʧaɪld; “bʌt ðiz ɑr ðə wundz ʌv lʌv.”
was dressing. He did not hate the winter now, for he “hu ɑrt ðaʊ?” sɛd ðə ˈʤaɪənt, ænd ə streɪnʤ ɑ fɛl ɑn hɪm,
knew that it was merely the Spring asleep, and that the ænd hi nɛlt bɪˈfɔr ðə ˈlɪtəl ʧaɪld. ænd ðə ʧaɪld smaɪld ɑn ðə
flowers were resting. ˈʤaɪənt, ænd sɛd tu hɪm, “ju lɛt mi pleɪ wʌns ɪn jʊər ˈgɑrdən,
Suddenly he rubbed his eyes in wonder, and looked tudeɪ ju ʃæl kʌm wɪð mi tu maɪ ˈgɑrdən, wɪʧ ɪz ˈpɛrəˌdaɪs.”
and looked. It certainly was a marvelous sight. In the ænd wɛn ðə ˈʧɪldrən ræn ɪn ðæt ˌæftərˈnun, ðeɪ faʊnd ðə
farthest corner of the garden was a tree quite covered ˈʤaɪənt ˈlaɪɪŋ dɛd ˈʌndər ðə tri, ɔl ˈkʌvərd wɪð waɪt
with lovely white blossoms. Its branches were all ˈblɑsəmz.
golden, and silver fruit hung down from them, and -ði ɛnd-
underneath it stood the little boy he had loved.
Downstairs ran the Giant in great joy, and out into the
garden. He hastened across the grass, and came near
to the child. And when he came quite close his face
grew red with anger, and he said, “Who hath dared to
wound thee?” For on the palms of the child’s hands
were the prints of two nails, and the prints of two nails
were on the little feet.
“Who hath dared to wound thee?” cried the Giant; “tell
me, that I may take my big sword and slay him.” “Nay!”
answered the child; “but these are the wounds of Love.”
“Who art thou?” said the Giant, and a strange awe fell
on him, and he knelt before the little child. And the
child smiled on the Giant, and said to him, “You let me
play once in your garden, to-day you shall come with
me to my garden, which is Paradise.” And when the
children ran in that afternoon, they found the Giant
lying dead under the tree, all covered with white
blossoms.
-THE END-