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
From "Songs of Experience"
("My Pretty Rose-Tree")
1794