My Pretty Rose-Tree

by

William Blake


A flower was offerd to me;

Such a flower as May never bore.

But I said I've a Pretty Rose-tree

And I passed the sweet flower o'er.


Then I went to my Pretty Rose-tree;

To tend her by day and by night.

But my Rose turned away with jealousy:

And her thorns were my only delight.


(1794)



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