24 April 2010

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 turnd away with jealousy: 
And her thorns were my only delight. 

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