Buccinnart @buccinnart - Tumblr Blog

“So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing beneath the Student’s window. ‘Give me a red rose,’ she cried, ‘and I will sing you my sweetest song.’ But the Tree shook its head. ‘My roses are red,’ it answered, ‘as red as the feet of the dove, and redder than the great fans of coral that wave and wave in the ocean-cavern. But the winter has chilled my veins, and the frost has nipped my buds, and the storm has broken my branches, and I shall have no roses at all this year.” [Oscar Wild, “The Nightingale and the rose”]

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