A flower was offered 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 turnd away with jealousy:
And her thorns were my only delight.

Added: Feb 20 2003 | Viewed: 4055 times | Comments (0)

Poet: William Blake
Poem: My Pretty Rose Tree
Volume: Songs of Experience
Year: Published/Written in 1789
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