A Poison Tree

I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I watered it in fears,
Night and morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine.
And he knew that it was mine,

And into my garden stole
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

by William Blake

Comments (183)

just so cool how the are try to keep there anger inside by them it all releases
such a crappy poem :)
such a sublime poem, my lecturer read this in my hearing at the first time. reading it again i realised that forgiveness is better than keeping malice.... Blake; what a melancholic poet!
interesting poem didactic wholesome
hmm the poem was very interested and educated
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