“Themusicianswillsitintheirgallery,” saidtheyoungStudent, “andplayupontheirstringedinstruments, , , forIhavenoredrosetogiveher;” andheflunghimselfdownonthegrass, andburiedhisfaceinhishands, andwept.“Whyisheweeping?” askedalittleGreenLizard, asheranpasthimwithhistailintheair.“Why, indeed?” saidaButterfly, whowasflutteringaboutafterasunbeam.“Why, indeed?” whisperedaDaisytohisneighbour, inasoft, lowvoice.“Heisweepingforaredrose,” saidtheNightingale.“Foraredrose?” theycried; “howveryridiculous!” andthelittleLizard, whowassomethingofacynic, ’ssorrow, andshesatsilentintheoak-tree, , , -plotwasstandingabeautifulRose-tree, andwhenshesawitsheflewovertoit, andlituponaspray.“Givemearedrose,” shecried, “andIwillsingyoumysweetestsong.”
ButtheTreeshookitshead.“Myrosesarewhite,” itanswered; “aswhiteasthefoamofthesea, -dial, andperhapshewillgiveyouwhatyouwant.”
SotheNightingaleflewovertotheRose-treethatwasgrowingroundtheoldsun-dial.“Givemearedrose,” shecried, “andIwillsingyoumysweetestsong.”
ButtheTreeshookitshead.“Myrosesareyellow,” itanswered; “asyellowasthehairofthemermaidenwhositsuponanamberthrone, ’swindow, andperhapshewillgiveyouwhatyouwant.”
SotheNightingaleflewovertotheRose-treethatwasgrowingbeneaththeStudent’swindow.“Givemearedrose,” shecried, “andIwillsingyoumysweetestsong.”
ButtheTreeshookitshead.“Myrosesarered,” itanswered, “asredasthefeetofthedove, , andthefrosthasnippedmybuds, andthestormhasbrokenmybranches, andIshallhavenorosesatallthisyear.”
