Читать книгу The Complete Illuminated Books of William Blake (Unabridged - With All The Original Illustrations) - William Blake - Страница 76

A flower was offerd 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.