The Thorn and the Rose

Once a boy loved a girl, She asked for a red rose, When winter snow did twirl, And all the flowers froze, Where could he find a rose? A nightingale did hear, Of his deep love for her, She wished to help him here, To assist and succour, Where could she find a rose? She went to a rose plant, And asked for its flower, It said, "Mine's white, I can't Make it red by power." Where to find a red rose? She went to another And asked for a red rose "My plant has no other Red rose which finely grows. It's winter, no red rose." "But there is one sad way, By which you can get one, You must do as I say, And then it could be done, The way to a red rose." The nightingale did sing, Her heart pressed on a thorn, Unmindful of the sting, Till a red rose was born, A crimson blood-red rose, The moon looked down in awe, As the nightingale sang Of deepest passion raw, The air around her rang, With the birth of a rose, With her own blood she made A ruby rose for love, Her voice began to fade, But her song rang above The scarlet passion rose, The nightingale lay dead With the thorn in her heart, The ruddy rose blushed red, When plucked for his sweetheart, That nightingale's blood rose, The boy gave it to her, "Will you now dance with me?" But she said, "I prefer Jewels to flowers free." The boy threw that red rose. The nightingale was dead For she believed in love, But the boy simply said, "Love - nothing does it prove." A cart trampled the rose. A beautiful red rose, That took one life to make, The nightingale's love throes Lay there crushed in heartbreak, The thorn had pierced the rose. 07.08.2020 6 syllables per line Inspired by the short story, "The nightingale and the rose " by Oscar Wilde.