English 1302

the_poison_tree_poem.doc

The Poetry Society 22 Betterton Street, London, WC2H 9BX Phone: 0207 2420 9880 Email: [email protected]

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.

From Songs of Innocence and Experinace by William Blake 1757-1827