Friday, February 4, 2011

Poetry 133: A Poison Tree



A Poison Tree
By William Blake

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.

3 comments:

  1. Maybe Adam Aunt was inspired by the poem when he wrote "friend or foe".

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  2. Love the picture with this. hmmmm..lots to think about in this poem.

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