TEXT I

The Ugly Duckling

[…] Then the young bird felt that his wings were strong, as

he flapped them against his sides and rose high into the air.

They bore him onwards until, before he well knew how it had

happened, he found himself in a large garden. The apple

trees were in full blossom, and the fragrant elders bent their

long green branches down to the stream, which wound round

a smooth lawn. Everything looked beautiful in the freshness

of early spring. From a thicket close by came three beautiful

white swans, rustling their feathers and swimming lightly over

the smooth water. The duckling saw these lovely birds and

felt more strangely unhappy than ever.

"I will fly to these royal birds," he exclaimed, "and they will kill

me because, ugly as I am, I dare to approach them. But it

does not matter; better be killed by them than pecked by the

ducks, beaten by the hens, pushed about by the maiden who

feeds the poultry, or starved with hunger in the winter."

Then he flew to the water and swam towards the beautiful

swans. The moment they espied the stranger they rushed to

meet him with outstretched wings.

"Kill me," said the poor bird and he bent his head down to the

surface of the water and awaited death.

But what did he see in the clear stream below? His own

image – no longer a dark gray bird, ugly and disagreeable to

look at, but a graceful and beautiful swan.

Adapted from: https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/32571/pg32571-images.html#Page_30. Accessed on: December 17 th 2025.