Folly is an endless maze,
Tangled roots perplex her ways.
How many have fallen there!
They stumble all night over bones of the dead,
10And feel they know not what but care,
And wish to lead others, when they should be led.
Little Black Boy,' while in the latest issues it is commonly placed last, forming a connecting link with the Introduction to the Songs of Experience. See editor's Bibliographical Preface to the Songs.
9 stumble] tumble Muir's facsimile (Songs of Experience). 10 And . . . care] And feel — they know not what but care Wilk., WMR, EY, WBY: And feel— they know not what save care DGR. 11 when] where Muir's facsimiles.
1A flower was ofifer'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.
5Then 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.
The first poem in the MS. Book (on p. 115 reversed). Without title in the original draft. This and the two following songs are engraved upon a single plate, reprinted in Gilchrist's Life (ii, end).
4 passed] DGR, Shepherd and other editors ruin the melody of this line by reading 'passed' or 'pass'd' for 'passed.' It was Blake's almost invariable practice, not only in manuscript but in engraved poems, to omit the e of the final ed in the preterite or participial termination, where he did not intend it to be pronounced as a separate syllable. The only exception to this rule is in the case of words where the omission of the e might possibly lead to confusion with another word, e. g. 'pined' not 'pin'd.' 6 To ... by night] In the silence of the night MS. Book 1st rdg. del. her] it MS. Book 2nd rdg. R1. by night] R1 omits by. 7 turn'd] turned all except Shep.: turn'd . . . jealousy] was turnèd from me MS. Book 1st rdg. del. and replaced by was fillèd with Jealousy. 8 Blake's first version of this stanza seems to me preferable to that of the engraved Songs: —
'Then I went to my pretty rose tree
In the silence of the night ;
But my rose was turned from me.
And her thorns were my only delight.'
