All night long she sang , and the thorn went deeper and deeper into her breast , and her life-blood ebbed away from her . She sang first of the birth of love in the heart of a boy and a girl . And on the top-most spray of the Rose-tree there blossomed a marvellous rose , petal following petal , as song followed song . Pale was it , at first , as the mist that hangs over the river -- pale as the feet of the morning , and silver as the wings of the dawn . As the shadow of a rose in a mirror of silver , as the shadow of a rose in a water-pool , so was the rose that blossomed on the topmost spray of the Tree . But the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn . `` Press closer , little Nightingale , '' cried the Tree , `` or the Day will come before the rose is finished . '' So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn , and louder and louder grew her song , for she sang of the birth of passion in the soul of a man and a maid . And a delicate flush of pink came into the leaves of the rose , like the flush in the face of the bridegroom when he kisses the lips of the bride . But the thorn had not yet reached her heart , so the rose 's heart remained white , for only a Nightingale 's heart 's - blood can crimson the heart of a rose . And the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn . `` Press closer , little Nightingale , '' cried the Tree , `` or the Day will come before the rose is finished . '' So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn , and the thorn touched her heart , and a fierce pang of pain shot through her . Bitter , bitter was the pain , and wilder and wilder grew her song , for she sang of the Love that is perfected by Death , of the Love that dies not in the tomb . And the marvellous rose became crimson , like the rose of the eastern sky . Crimson was the girdle of petals , and crimson as a ruby was the heart . But the Nightingale 's voice grew fainter , and her little wings began to beat , and a film came over her eyes . Fainter and fainter grew her song , and she felt something choking her in her throat . Then she gave one last burst of music . The white Moon heard it , and she forgot the dawn , and lingered on in the sky .
The red rose heard it , and it trembled all over with ecstasy , and opened its petals to the cold XXXXX air .
Moon Nightingale Rose-tree first life-blood morning night pang petal ruby