(A poem 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.
William Blake was an English poet, painter, and printmaker whose work is today considered seminal and significant in the history of both poetry and the visual arts. Read more of his writings here.