My Pretty Rose Tree

by William Blake

  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 turned away with jealousy,

  And her thorns were my only delight.


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