This is not an Aesop fable but I felt like doing this.
When I was little and watching cartoons, I remembered watching one about fairy tales. One of the stories stood out to me because I remembered it being pretty sad. All I remembered about the story was a mother searching for her child who was taken away. I never knew the name of the story but as I never saw it again, I've forgotten all about it. Many years later in adulthood, I just happened to remember back on the story and I looked for it on the Internet. After searching with the general plotline, I discovered the name of the story. It was written by Hans Christian Andersen and it was called 'The Story of a Mother'. I never could find the cartoon of it so if anyone remembers it, please let me know. If you don't know the story, then let me put it in verse.
The Story of a Mother
It is the time of Winter and all is cold
And all the land is covered by snow.
A mother sat by her sickly child
These days might be the last, she know.
As she gazes in her sadness,
She hears a knocking on the door.
And in walks an old man from the cold
wrapped in fur and nothing more.
She looks up from her sleeping child
To see who walked in from the storm.
As she sees the old man shivering
She puts a kettle on the stove to warm.
The old man sat and rocked the cradle,
Watching as the child slept.
"You think I should keep him, do you not?
God will not take him," she wept.
The old man nodded in a strange way
As he took in a deep breath.
For the Mother did not know
That he, himself, was Death.
Then her head became heavy
For it has been three nights she has no sleep.
Her eyelids began to close
To be awake she cannot keep.
Suddenly she awoke
And immediately looked around.
The old man had disappeared
And he took her child, she found.
As tears came and her heart sank,
She screamed out to her child.
And without thinking twice
She ran into the wild.
She meets a woman sitting in the snow
Her garments are of black.
"Death has taken your child," she said
"Nothing will bring him back."
"I will find him," the Mother said.
"Tell me which way to go."
"But first, for me," the woman said
"And then I"ll let you know."
"I"ve heard you singing to your child,
And your tears flow with every song.
For I am Night, and always loved
To listen all along."
"I will sing them to you," the Mother said.
"But please do not forsake.
"If I am detained too long
"Then they I cannot overtake."
But Night sat still and silent as the mother sang
Many tears began to flow.
Until at last, Night pointed right.
"Into the dark fir forest, you must go."
So into the forest, Mother went
And soon the road came to a cross.
She asked a nearby thorn-bush,
"Has Death passed by with the child I"ve lost?"
Now since it is the midst of winter,
The thorn-bush had no flower or leaf.
"Yes," he said "I will tell you."
"But satisfy my belief."
"I"m told the mother's heart is warmest
"To be held there would be nice
"Warm me in your bosom
'So I do not turn to ice."
She pressed the brambles to her bosom close
That the thorns pierced her flesh.
And where great drops of blood flowed,
Green leaves appeared, sprouted fresh.
Once the leaves turned into flowers.
The thorn-bush showed which path to take.
Mother walked and at great length.
Soon she came across a great big lake.
The lake had no ships and no boats
And it wasn"t frozen enough to walk on top.
Nor was it open enough to wade through
Is this the point that she must stop?
Then she laid herself down to drink
The water from the lake.
And Lake said, "I"ll help you cross
But an agreement we must make."
"Pearl collecting is my love
"And your eyes are the purest I have seen
"Weep them into the waters for me
"And I"ll take you where Death has been."
"There is a hothouse where he dwells
"Where he rears flowers and trees."
"Anything to reach my child," Mother said
As she fell to her knees.
And weep she did, as tears fell
They formed into small swirls.
Her eyes fell into the depth of the lake
And became two costly pearls.
Then Lake lifted her up and wafted her to the opposite shore
In front of a building she was laid.
The building was many miles long.
Was it a mountain or was it made?
"Where is Death and my child?," Mother asked.
For without eyes, she cannot see.
"He has not arrived yet," an old gray haired woman said.
"How did you come and who helped thee?"
"God has helped me," Mother said, "God is merciful"
"Will you merciful too?"
"Where shall I find my little child?"
"Please tell me what to do"
"I do not know your child," old woman said
"For we have yet to meet."
"You know each human has a life-tree or flower"
"Each with a heart that beat"
"Children's hearts also do beat
"From that you"d recognise, maybe
"But if I tell you what to do
"What more would you give me?"
"I have nothing to give," Mother said
"To Earth's end, I would go there."
"Nothing to do there," old woman said
"But you can give me your long black hair."
"Nothing more than that?," she said.
"I will give it with delight."
And so they exchanged each other's hair
Now Mother's hair's all white.
Together they went into Death's hothouse
Flowers and trees in one big room.
A name was given to each one
And a life for every bloom.
They came across some weak little flowers
Growing in rich soil and well treated.
Mother bent down and had a listen
She recognised her child's from the others that beated.
A little crocus that hung its sickly head
"That's it," she cried and stretched her hand.
"Don"t touch the flower," old woman exclaimed
"Just wait for Death and make a stand."
"When Death comes and that is soon
"Do not let him pull up that plant
"But threaten him, you"d uproot the rest
"For without God's permission, uproot, he can"t."
There rushed through the houthouse an icy chill
And Mother knew that Death has came.
He asked, "How did you find and get here faster?"
"I am a mother," she exclaimed.
As Death stretched out his hand for the flower
Mother held her hands tightly around.
Then Death breathed upon her hands, colder than the icy wind
Her hands fell to the ground.
"You cannot prevail against me," said Death.
"But a God of mercy can," said she.
"I only do His will," said Death
"A gardener for the flowers and trees."
"I will transplant them into the Gardens of Paradise"
"In an unknown land some day"
"What that garden resembles
And how they flourish, I cannot say."
"Give me back my child," said Mother.
As she grabbed two flowers just nearby.
"I will tear up all your flowers,
"For I am in despair," she cried.
"Do not touch them," said Death
"Would you make another mother unhappy?"
"Another mother!" cried the poor woman
As she set the flowers free.
"Here are your eyes," said Death
"I fished them out of the lake for you."
"Take them back, they"re clearer now
"Then into this deep well come take a view."
"I will tell you the names of the two flowers
"That your hands had took
"But see what you were about to destroy
"Here is their future, take a look."
Then she looked into the well and saw a glorious sight
As one of them became a blessing
But the other was full of poverty, misery and woe
Living in a world so depressing.
"Both are the will of God," said Death
She ask, "Which is sad and which is blessed?"
"That I may not tell you but you will learn
"That one is your child's fate," he confessed.
Then Mother screamed, "Which one is my child?"
"Tell me that. Deliver the unhappy one."
"Release it from its misery and take it to God's kingdom"
"Forget my tears and entreaties, and all I said and done."
Death said, "I do not understand"
"Do you want you child back in your grace"
"Or should I carry him far away"
"To the so-called unknown place"
Then Mother wrung her hands for prayers to God,
Falling to her knees.
"When they are contrary to thy will,
"Grant not my prayers, please."
"God will surely know what's best"
As her head sank down, "At last I understand."
Then Death picked up her little child
To carry to the unknown land.
The End
Hey, this is not as easy as I thought and maybe I should edit this. I know the punctuation might be a bit wrong. But all I remember from the cartoon was the old man returning the mother's eyes. I wonder if it ended the same. If you want to read the actual story, I got it from this site: http://www.classicreader.com/book/109/12/
