Love's Labour Lost

'Twas a cold winter's night,
the wind howled like a fiend.
Menacing thunderclouds rumbled thus,
and it appeared the world 'wd end.

No living being dared stir,
except the little nightingale forlorn.
Poor bird, she sang her song,
as her breast pressed against the thorn.

She'd pitied the man who wanted a red rose,
to please his beloved, the princess so vain.
Said she to herself, "I must do this,
for die though I might, but Love will reign."

And so she told the old rose tree,
to give her the sweetest red rose.
The tree said to her, "My veins are chilled,
for the frigid wind blows."

"There is but one thing you can do,
which I'd rather not say."
But the nightingale persisted,
so the tree had to give way.

"It's tougher than you think, li'l bird,
said he, "and it's my duty to warn."
"A red rose can't be made save from your blood,
and saying this with sadness I'm torn."

The nightingale sighed, but she was brave,
and she was inspired by Love.
So, she made the terrible choice,
and tears were shed even by the Gods above.

Not having found her love,
she wanted to gift it to another.
By letting her life ebb on,
and all her heart's desire smother.

'Twas a terrible sacrifice to make,
to shed her blood to make a red rose.
The pain she bore, for the sake of love,
can neither be scribed in poetry, nor in prose.

She felt she was doing a service to Love,
and so never did complain.
And a silent spectre though I was,
not from tears could I refrain.

All, night long her blood flowed,
as the veins of the tree thawed.
The rose slowly took shape,
and the nightingale's heart did applaud.

The moon lingered on,
to hear the last strains of her song.
Even the stars forgot to sleep,
and in the sky they did throng.

The tree said, "Look, the rose is done."
but the nightingale answered with nary a moan.
For her life's labour was complete,
and her soul had flown.

Cometh morning, we found the rose trampled,
by the vain princess, in the frost.
And the innocent nightingale lay dead,
'twas nothing but love's labour lost.

~Rachit~
 

With due regards to Oscar Wilde, for his heart-rending story, "The Nightingale and the Rose", which always moves me to tears.

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