Little Match Girl

Written in 1846
It was biting cold, and the falling snow, which filled a poor little match girl's heart with woe, who was bareheaded and barefooted, as she went along the street, Crying, "Who'll buy my matches? For I want pennies to buy some meat!"
When she left home she had slippers on; But, alas! poor child, now they were gone. For she lost both of them while hurrying across the street, out of the way of two carriages which were near by her feet.
So the little girl went on, while the snow fell thick and fast; and the child's heart felt cold and downcast, for nobody had bought any matches that day, which filled her little mind with grief and dismay.
Alas! She was hungry and shivering with cold; so in a corner between two houses she made bold to take shelter from the violent storm. Peeking into the windows of those with plenty, while they open their gifts and filled their stomach she watching the fire aglow.
Poor little waif! Wishing to herself she'd never been born.
And she grew colder and colder, and feared to go home for fear of her father beating her; and she felt woe-begone because she could carry home no pennies to buy bread,and to go home without pennies she was in dread.
The large flakes of snow covered her ringlets of fair hair; while the passers-by for her had no care, as they hurried along to their homes at a quick pace, while the cold wind blew in the match girl's face.
As night wore on her hands were numb with cold, and no longer her strength could her uphold, when an idea into her little head came: She'd strike a match and warm her hands at the flame.
And she lighted the match, and it burned brightly, and it helped to fill her heart with glee; and she thought she was sitting at a stove very grand; But, alas! She was found dead, with a match in her hand!
Her body was found half-covered with snow, and as the people gazed thereon their hearts were full of woe; and many present let fall a burning tear because she was found dead on the last night of the year,
In that mighty city of London, wherein is plenty of gold - But, alas! Their charity towards street waifs is rather cold.
But I hope the match girl's in Heaven, beside her Saviour dear, a bright reward for all the hardships she suffered here.

{She had been wearing slippers, but they were too big. Why? The answer is immediate—they were her mother's. As little kids we donned our parent's shoes and hobbled about in them, doubling over in giggles by the very immensity of them, our miniature feet lost in the cavernous depths.
Relating something commonplace to the external world, Andersen opens the door for us to enter into a different world of poverty. We are not the onlookers peering in through the windows but involved directly. We feel the cold, hear the mumbled words of the little girl and feel numbness overtaking our minds as the snow falls in flurries about the child in the thin clothes.
Andersen increases the tension by contrasting the season of generosity with that of utter poverty. She hadn't sold a match all day. The repetition of the thought identifies the child's despair and fear of returning home, the utter hopelessness of her life. The fear of being beaten is softened by the repetition of the unsold matches. The lines dull the pain as she loses consciousness. Reality and hallucination mix as her mind wanders into a different world where food is readily available. Only the very hungry dream of apples and roast goose in technicolor.
We understand and see the misery and beauty surrounding the child as she leaves this world. Her vision gives us hope for the next and peace in this as we return back into the bothersome, bustling season of Christmas when greedy shoppers trample each other in the stores, trying to nab the last bargain of the day.
The portrait haunts us a day later as we pass the beggars on the streets or avoid the homeless people in the metros and train stations, but Andersen had the courage to look within the soul and see that underneath the poverty and hunger, they were people, too, needing as much love and attention as you or I.
Instead of calculating your Christmas presents or Christmas budget to spend on friends; make a commitment of time to care about those whose lives are hard. Dedicate a portion of your time to a community project or involve yourself in establishing a new one. It doesn't have to be a major investment, but only a matter of a few hours per month—visiting the ill or shut-in in the local nursing-home or collecting old magazines to create a magazine exchange in the hospital or library for those who cannot afford to pay
subscriptions.
America is the great wasteland of wealth. So many things could be recycled, but are not. So much can be given directly to those in need. Volunteer at a local youth group; work on a crisis line; help develop resources for a website; organize kids to clean trash off the streets—there's a million things possible. Read stories to kids—do something to make this world a better place. Think how different Malvo's life could have been had someone cared for her and showed her the meaning of love. Inside, she's human, too; but she grew up in a brutal world shaped by blind indifference. What can be expected when kids are taught from very young age to play computer games with the major objective is ultimate destruction and televisions are saturated with violence? Save a life by reaching out to someone in need. Carry an apple in the pocket to give to someone in need of food. It's not the biggest sacrifice you'll make in life, but it might warm someone's heart and offer hope to live.}