`` There is away , '' answered the Tree ; `` but it is so terrible that I dare not tell it to you . '' `` Tell it to me , '' said the Nightingale , `` I am not afraid . '' `` If you want a red rose , '' said the Tree , `` you must build it out of music by moonlight , and stain it with your own heart 's - blood . You must sing to me with your breast against a thorn . All night long you must sing to me , and the thorn must pierce your heart , and your life-blood must flow into my veins , and become mine . '' `` Death is a great price to pay for a red rose , '' cried the Nightingale , `` and Life is very dear to all . It is pleasant to sit in the green wood , and to watch the Sun in his chariot of gold , and the Moon in her chariot of pearl . Sweet is the scent of the hawthorn , and sweet are the bluebells that hide in the valley , and the heather that blows on the hill . Yet Love is better than Life , and what is the heart of a bird compared to the heart of a man ? '' So she spread her brown wings for flight , and soared into the air . She swept over the garden like a shadow , and like a shadow she sailed through the grove . The young Student was still lying on the grass , where she had left him , and the tears were not yet dry in his beautiful eyes . `` Be happy , '' cried the Nightingale , `` be happy ; you shall have your red rose . I will build it out of music by moonlight , and stain it with my own heart 's - blood . All that I ask of you in return is that you will be a true lover , for Love is wiser than Philosophy , though she is wise , and mightier than Power , though he is mighty . Flame - coloured are his wings , and coloured like flame is his body . His lips are sweet as honey , and his breath is like frankincense . '' The Student looked up from the grass , and listened , but he could not understand what the Nightingale was saying to him , for he only knew the things that are written down in books . But the Oak-tree understood , and felt sad , for he was very fond of the little Nightingale who had built her nest in his branches . `` Sing me one last song , '' he whispered ; `` I shall feel very lonely when you are gone . ''
So the Nightingale sang to the XXXXX , and her voice was like water bubbling from a silver jar .
Nightingale Oak-tree Student Sun bluebells frankincense hawthorn left life-blood night