| A poem by William Blake from his Songs of Experience:
A flower was offer'd 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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