shall have your

    red rose.  I  out of music by moonligain it

    s-blood.  All t I ask of you in return is t

    you rue lover, for Love is hough

    sier ty.  Flame-

    coloured are his wings, and coloured like flame is his body.  his

    lips are s as ;

    tudent looked up from tened, but he could

    not understand ingale o him, for he only

    kne are ten down in books.

    But tree understood, and felt sad, for he was very fond of

    ttle Nig  in his branches.

    quot;Sing me one last song,quot; ;I shall feel very lonely

    w;

    So tingale sang to tree, and her voice was like

    er bubbling from a silver jar.

    udent got up, and pulled a

    note-book and a lead-pencil out of .

    quot;S; o he

    grove - quot;t cannot be denied to   feeling?  I

    am afraid not.  In fact, s artists; she is all

    style,  any sincerity.  S sacrifice herself for

    ot the

    arts are selfisill, it must be admitted t she has some

    beautiful notes in  a pity it is t t

    mean anytical good.quot;  And  into his

    room, and lay dole pallet-bed, and began to think of

    er a time, he fell asleep.

    And o the

    Rose-tree, and set  against t long

    s against tal

    Moon leaned doened.  All nighe

    t deeper and deeper into , and her life-blood

    ebbed away from her.

    S of t of a boy and a

    girl.  And on top-most spray of tree there blossomed a