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 (201)

Revenge may seem sweet at first, but later dastardly deeds will the conscience depriving of peace.
Nice poem
Yes thank you for saying fuck you . It’s like one of the most existential cries for help.
Fuck you
Sublime.
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