|
 
|
A Poison Tree
by William
Blake
from Songs of Experience
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 waterd it in fears,
Night and morning with my tears;
And I sunnéd 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 veild the pole;
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretchd beneath the tree.
|
(1757-1827)
|
