Poem of the Month

William_Blake_by_Thomas_Phillips

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

Nights 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 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

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