夜莺与玫瑰读后感，三十字以内
As long as you love it, it 's your world我的读后感是：只要你爱它,它便是你的世界。
i took my love, escape your world 我带着我的爱，逃离你的世界。
关于夜莺和玫瑰花
NIGHTINGALE AND ROSE She said that she would dance with me if I brought her red roses, cried young Student, but in all my garden there is red rose. From her nest in the oak tree the Nightingale heard , and she looked out through the leaves and wondered. red rose in all my garden! he cried, and beautiful eyes filled with tears. Ah, on what tle things does happiness depend! I have read all that the wise men have written, and all the secrets of philosophy are mine, yet for want (没有) of a red rose is my made wretched. Here at last is a true lover, said the Nightingale. Night after night have I sung of , though I knew t: night after night have I told story to the stars and now I see him. hair is dark as the hyacinth()-- blossom, and his lips are red as the rose of his desire; but passion has made his face like pale ivory, and sorrow has set her seal upon his brow. The Prince gives a ball (舞会) to-morrow night, murmured the young student, and my love will be of the company. If I bring her a red rose she will dance with me till dawn. If I bring her a red rose, I should hold her in my arms, and she will lean her head upon my shoulder, and her hand will be clasped in mine. But there is no red rose in my garden, so I shall sit lonely, and she will pass me by. She will have no heed of me, and my heart will break. Here, indeed, is the true lover, said the Nightingale. What I sing of, he suffers: what is to me, to him is pain. Surely love is a wonderful thing. It is more precious than emeralds (), and dearer than fine opals (). Pearls and pomegranates cannot buy it, nor is it set forth in the market-place. It may not be purchased of the merchants, nor can it be weighed out in the balance for gold. The musicians will sit in their gallery, said the young Student, and play upon their stringed instruments, and my love will dance to the sound of the harp and the violin. She will dance so lightly that her feet will not touch the floor, and the courtiers in their gay dresses will throng round her. But with me she will not dance, for I have no red rose to give her: and he flung himself down on the grass, and buried his face in his hands, and wept. Why is he weeping? asked a tle Green Lizard, as he ran past him with his tail in the air. Why, indeed? said a Butterfly, who was fluttering about after a sunbeam. Why, indeed? whispered a Daisy to his neighbour, in a soft, low voice. He is weeping for a red rose, said the Nightingale. For a red rose? they cried: how very ridiculous! and the little Lizard, who was something of a cynic (愤世嫉俗者), laughed outright. But the Nightingale understood the secret of the Student’s sorrow, and she sat silent in the oak-tree, and thought about the mystery of Love. Suddenly she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. She passed through the grove like a shadow and like a shadow she sailed across the garden. In the center of the grass-plot was standing a beautiful Rose-tree, and when she saw it she flew over to it, and lit upon a spray. Give me a red rose, she cried, and I will sing you my sweetest song. But the Tree shook its head. My roses are white, it answered; as white as the foam of the sea, and whiter than the snow upon the mountain. But go to my brother who grows round the old sun-dial (一种玫瑰), and perhaps he will give you what you want. So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing round the old sun-dial. Give me a red rose, she cried, and I will sing you my sweetest song. But the Tree shook its head. My roses are yellow, it answered; as yellow as the hair of the mermaiden (美人鱼) who sits upon an amber throne, and yellower than the daffodil (黄水仙) that blooms in the meadow before the mower comes with his scythe. But go to my brother who grows beneath the Student’s window (一种玫瑰), and perhaps he will give you what you want. 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 (摧残) my buds, and the storm has broken my branches, and I shall have no roses at all this year. One red rose is all I want, cried the Nightingale, only one red rose! Is there no way by which I can get it? There is a way, answered the Tree; but it is so terrible that I dare not tell it to you. Tell it to me, said the Nightingale, I am not afraid. If you want a red rose, said the Tree, you must build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with your own heart’s blood. You must sing to me with your breast against a thorn. All night long you must sing to me, and the thorn must pierce your heart, and your life-blood must flow into me veins, and become mine. Death is a great price to pay for a red rose, cried the Nightingale, and Life is very dear to all. It is pleasant to sit in the green wood, and to watch the Sun in his chariot (战车) of gold, and the Moon in her chariot of pearl. Sweet is the scent of the hawthorn, and sweet are the bluebells that hide in the valley, and the heather that blows on the hill. Yet love is better than Life, and what is the heart of a bird compared to the heart of a man? So she spread her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. She swept over the garden like a shadow, and like a shadow she sailed through the grove. The young Student was still lying on the grass, where she had left him, and the tears were not yet dry in his beautiful eyes. Be happy, cried the Nightingale, be happy; you shall have your red rose. I will build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with my own heart’s blood. All that I ask of you in return is that you will be a true lover, for Love is wiser than Philosophy (哲学), though he is wise, and mightier than Power, though he is mighty. Flame-coloured are his wings, and coloured like flame is his body. His lips are sweet as homey, and his breath is like frankincense. The Student looked up from the grass, and listened, but he could not understand what the Nightingale was saying to him, for he only knew the things that are written down in books. But the Oak-tree understood, and felt sad, for he was very fond of the little Nightingale, who had built her nest in his branches. Sing me one last song, he whispered; I shall feel lonely when you are gone. So the Nightingale sang to the Oak-tree, and her voice was like water bubbling from a silver jar. When she had finished her song, the Student got up, and pulled a note-book and a lead-pencil out of his pocket. She had form, her said to himself, as he walked away through the grove—that cannot be denied to her; but has she got feeling? I am afraid not. In fact, she is like most artists; she is all style without any sincerity. She would not sacrifice herself for others. She thinks merely of music, and everybody knows that the arts are selfish. Still, it must be admitted that she has some beautiful notes in her voice. What a pity it is that they do not mean anything, or do any practical good! And he went into his room, and lay down on his little pallet-bed, and began to think of his love; and, after a time, he fell asleep. And when the moon shone in the heavens the Nightingale flew to the Rose-tree, and set her breast against the thorn. All night long she sang, with her breast against the thorn, and the cold crystal Moon leaned down and listened. All night long she sang, and the thorn went deeper and deeper into her breast, and her life-blood ebbed away from her. She sang first of the birth of love in the heart of a boy and a girl. And on the topmost spray of the Rose-tree there blossomed a marvelous rose, petal following petal, as song followed song. Pale was it, at first, as the mist that hangs over the river—pale as the feet of the morning, and silver as the wings of the dawn. As the shadow of a rose in a mirror of silver, as the shadow of a rose in a water-pool, so was the rose that blossomed on the topmost spray of the Tree. But the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn. Press closer, little Nightingale, cried the Tree, or the Day will come before the rose is finished. So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and louder and louder grew her song, for she sang of the birth of passion in the soul of a man and a maid. And a delicate flush of pink came into the leaves of the rose, like the flush in the face of the bridegroom when he kisses the lips of the bride. But the thorn had not yet reached her heart, so the rose’s heart remained white, for only a Nightingale’s heart’s blood can crimson the heart of a rose. And the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the thorn. Press closer, little Nightingale, cried the Tree, or the Day will come before the rose is finished. So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and the thorn touched her heart, and a fierce pang of pain shot through her. Bitter, bitter was the pain, and wilder and wilder grew her song, for she sang of the Love that is perfected by Death, of the Love that dies not in the tomb. And the marvelous rose became crimson (猩红), like the rose of the eastern sky. Crimson was the girdle of petals, and crimson as a ruby (红宝石) was the heart. But the Nightingale’ voice grew fainter, and her little wings began to beat, and a film came over her eyes. Fainter and fainter grew her song, and she felt something choking her in her throat. Then she gave one last burst of music. The white Moon heard it, and she forgot the dawn, and lingered on in the sky. The red rose heard it, and it trembled all over with ecstasy, and opened its petals to the cold morning air. Echo bore it to her purple cavern in the hills, and woke the sleeping shepherds from their dreams. It floated through the reeds of the river, and they carried its message to the sea. Look, look! cried the Tree, the rose is finished now; but the Nightingale made not answer, for she was lying dead in the long grass, with the thorn in her heart. And at noon the Student opened his window and looked out. Why, what a wonderful piece of luck! He cried; here is a red rose! I have never seen any rose like it in all my life. It is so beautiful that I am sure it has a long Latin name; and he leaned down and plucked it. Then he put on his hat, and ran up to the Professor’s house with the rose in his hand. The daughter of the Professor was sitting in the doorway winding blue silk on a reel, and her little dog was lying at her feet. You said that you would dance with me if I brought you a red rose, cried the Student. Here is the reddest rose in all the world. You will wear it to-night next your heart, and as we dance together it will tell you how I love you. But he girl frowned. I am afraid it will not go with my dress, she answered; and, besides, the Chamberlain’s nephew had sent me some real jewels, and everybody knows that jewels cost far more than flowers. Well, upon my word, you are very ungrateful, said the Student angrily; and he threw the rose onto he street, where it fell into the gutter (阴沟), and a cartwheel went over it. Ungrateful! said the girl. I tell you what, you are very rude; and, after all, who are you? Only a Student. Why, I dont believe you have even got silver buckles to your shoes as the Chamberlain’s nephew has; and she got up from her chair and went into the house. What a silly thing Love is! said the Student as he walked away. It is not half as useful as Logic, for it does not prove anything, and it is always telling one of things that are not going to happen, and making one believe things that are not true. In fact, it is quite unpractical, and, as in this age to be practical is everything, I shall go back to Philosophy and study Metaphysics (玄学). So he returned to his room and pulled out a great dusty book, and began to read.
《夜莺和蔷薇的》读后感
夜莺与蔷薇》是选自《快乐王子》（Oscar Wild）童话中的作品，很多王尔德的童话书里都没有《夜莺与蔷薇》，我觉得应该感谢编者的苦心，这样一篇童话确实不该给孩子看。
它讲述的是一个美丽而忧伤的故事:一个年轻的学生非常想同自己心爱的人一起跳舞，而她曾经答应过，只要他送给她一朵红蔷薇，她就会同他跳舞。
于是，学生四处找呀找，可是找遍了整个花园也没找到一朵，他哭了起来，心都快碎了。
夜鹰知道了学生的烦恼，决心帮助学生。
她用自己的胸脯抵着蔷薇刺，在月光下唱着歌，蔷薇刺着她的心，她的歌声也越来越激昂，最后蔷薇变红了，而夜鹰也死在高高的青草丛中。
正午，学生打开窗子，发现了那朵夜鹰心血染红的蔷薇，他高心极了，忙拿着红蔷薇送给他心爱的人，可心爱的人却并不欣赏，她要跟御前大臣的侄子好，因为御前大臣的侄子送了他一些上等珠宝，而谁都知道，珠宝比花值钱。
学生由失望、痛苦至愤怒，将红蔷薇丢进了路沟里，一个车轮从花上碾过去。
学生回到自己的屋子，他不再相信爱情，他觉得在他那个时代，什么东西都得讲实际，他还是回到哲学，研究形而上学吧! 阅读这篇译作给人的感觉是惊心动魄的，Oscar Wilde的原著之美当然无须争辩的。
L.C.英格列比称赞王尔德的童话“表现得精彩绝伦，丰富的想像给每篇故事都装饰了珠玉”。
作者有驾驭文字的能力，每一句话都是经过深思熟虑以后写出来的，但同时却有自发的动人力量。
《王尔德论》这种美主要表现在作者想像之新鲜、奇特，用词之熨帖、干净，结构之精巧、细致，辞藻之清丽流美。
整个选段在组织上循环往上，层层递进，如行云流水，又如一首优美的回旋曲。
洁净、清新的语言背后有对人生、对世界深深的思考，以及由此思考带来的淡淡忧伤。
“我读过了那些聪明人写的东西，一切学问的秘密我都知道了，可是因为少了一朵红蔷薇，我的生活就变成很不幸的了。
”王尔德的故事里，一个年轻的男学生这样说。
他想在即将到来的舞会上送一朵红蔷薇给他的爱人，可这是冬天，没有蔷薇。
我喜欢这样任性的句子，执拗得可爱。
“现在到底找到一个忠实的情人了。
”故事里的夜莺听到学生的话，自言自语道。
“夜莺”这词儿真美，英文是“nightingale”，很轻盈很好听的音节。
这是只多么天真的夜莺啊，它因为相信爱情，就宁愿付出自己的生命来为学生换得一朵蔷薇花。
——世界上还有这样相信爱情的人吗
王尔德似乎不敢肯定，所以他把这样水晶般的品质赋予了一只小鸟，而不是哪个人，尤其是成人。
童话里，人类中往往只有小孩才是纯洁可爱的，大人们都很可笑，很可悲。
学生的那个爱人就是这样的，在她看到那朵蔷薇花时竟然说：“我怕它跟我的衣服配不上，而且御前大臣的侄儿送了我一些上等珠宝，谁都知道珠宝比花更值钱。
” ——这就是人们说的话。
而夜莺它却在牺牲自己前一刻给了学生这样的叮咛：“我只要求你做一件事来报答我，就是你要做一个忠实的情人。
因为不管哲学是怎样地聪明，爱情却比她更聪明，不管权力是怎样地伟大，爱情却比他更伟大。
” 学生没有听懂。
他听到了夜莺美丽的调子，却觉得它们完全没有意义，也没有一点实际的好处。
“她有情感吗
我想她大概没有。
”他就是这样评价夜莺的。
他哪里知道夜莺为他做了什么—— 夜莺飞到一棵蔷薇树上来，拿她的胸脯抵住蔷薇刺，唱了整整一夜的歌，让蔷薇刺刺穿它的心，用自己的心血去染就一朵红蔷薇。
这整个的过程被铺陈渲染得那么凄美，只需扫视一下书页，就满目都是美得让人不忍卒读的词句。
细细读下去，看到故事里描写的那鲜艳的色彩和美丽的歌声，更是令人从心底里感到刺痛和绝望。
我想到了《海的女儿》里小人鱼在船上忍着锥心的疼痛跳舞的场面。
可是王尔德比安徒生更残忍，起码《海的女儿》还留给人美好的希望和遐想，王尔德却把一切可能的美好都从人类世界里抹去了。
当学生看到这朵世界上最美的蔷薇，他居然说：“它真美，我相信它有一个长的拉丁名字。
”而当他的蔷薇被少女拒绝之后，他愤愤地把花扔到了街上，“花刚巧落进路沟，一个车轮在它身上辗了过去。
”学生走了，他说：“我还是回到哲学上去，还是去研究形而上学罢。
” 可怜的鸟儿。
它所相信的爱情在人们眼里只是“不实际的东西”，它所认定的那个忠实的情人最终捧起了一本满是灰尘的大书读了起来。
可怜的鸟儿，它竟然相信“爱情胜过生命，而且一只鸟的心怎么能跟一个人的心相比呢。
” 这样痛苦的牺牲，换来一朵比鲜血还要红的蔷薇，因为夜莺相信爱情比生命更可贵、比博学还要聪明、比权力更为强大。
那朵蔷薇的最后，却是少女说“它和我的衣服不相配，上校已经送给我很多漂亮的宝石我要和他去跳舞，谁都知道宝石要比花更值钱”学生把花扔在街上，车轮从花上辗了过去。
他愤愤然走开“爱情是多么无聊的事情” 通篇强调的都是忠诚的情人，可是相信爱情并为之付出生命的，只有小小的夜莺而已。
最可贵的爱情是怎样的
是忠诚的。
在王尔德的《夜莺与蔷薇》中，夜莺为年轻人随意的爱情献出了生命：年轻人喜欢的女孩答应只要送她一朵红蔷薇，她就同年轻人跳舞，然而年轻人找遍了所有地方都没有找到一朵红蔷薇。
被年轻人对爱情的忠实感动的夜莺决定帮助年轻人，它先后问过白蔷薇树、黄蔷薇树，才找到一朵红蔷薇树，但红蔷薇树的血管被冻僵了，开不了花。
最终，就为了一朵红蔷薇，夜莺用自己的胸脯抵住红蔷薇树的一根刺唱了一整夜的歌，用自己的生命，自己的鲜血染成了一朵红蔷薇。
恐怕夜莺死也不会想到的是，那女孩因御前大臣侄儿的珠宝而抛弃了红蔷薇，拒绝了年轻人，年轻人失望地扔掉了红蔷薇，也抛弃了爱情。
夜莺之所以愿意献出自己的生命，是因为它希望年轻人对爱情忠实：夜莺大声说：“……我只要求你做一件事来报答我，就是你要做一个忠实的情人，因为不管哲学是怎样地聪明，爱情却比她更聪明，不管权力怎样地伟大，爱情却比他更伟大。
爱情的翅膀是像火焰一样的颜色。
他的嘴唇像蜜一样甜；他的气息香得跟乳香一样。
”正因为这世间忠诚的爱情太少，太可贵了，夜莺才愿意献出它的生命换来一份忠诚的爱情，却没想到夜莺的生命就这样被年轻人的轻浮浪费了。
最可贵的爱情——是忠诚的
《夜莺与玫瑰》告诉了我们什么，请写下感想。
爱你的人你视而不见，你爱的人对你不屑一顾，这叫什么
犯贱
《快乐王子》人《夜莺与玫瑰》写一写你所体会到的人物形象
《夜莺与》夜莺的声音音域宽广,婉转动听;玫瑰芬芳馥郁,象征着坚贞不渝的爱情。
主人公是体态孱夜莺，她以极其微小的力量，为了素不相识者的幸福以无畏的精神做了智者、强者都办不到的“惊天动地”的事，发人探省。
作品中王尔德别出心裁地把它的巢安放在高达25米的栋树的枝叶中，为其避风躲雨。
喻义是弱小的它是需要强者呵护的。
