`` 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 morning air . Echo bore it to her purple cavern in the hills , and woke the sleeping shepherds from their dreams . It floated through the reeds of the river , and they carried its message to the sea . `` Look , look ! '' cried the Tree , `` the rose is finished now '' ; but the Nightingale made no answer , for she was lying dead in the long grass , with the thorn in her heart . And at noon the Student opened his window and looked out . `` Why , what a wonderful piece of luck ! '' he cried ; `` here is a red rose ! I have never seen any rose like it in all my life . It is so beautiful that I am sure it has a long Latin name '' ; and he leaned down and plucked it . Then he put on his hat , and ran up to the Professor 's house with the rose in his hand .
The daughter of the XXXXX was sitting in the doorway winding blue silk on a reel , and her little dog was lying at her feet .
Moon Nightingale Professor Student choking morning noon pang reeds ruby