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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 turn'd away with jealousy:
And her thorns were my only delight.
        
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Poem ID: 352   Poem Posted: 11/19/1997
Viewed: 255814  Voted On: 2244  E-mailed: 728  Commented On: 29
 
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