And her thorns were my only delight

My pretty rose tree

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.

-poem by William Blake