A Poison Tree - Or Bitter Me

I came across this poem while searching for 18th century poetry to bring in to Lit class. I suppose what really caught my eye was that this poem exactly mirrored my mood of the month...isn't interesting what you randomly find which fits you so well? Anyhow, on with the poem!!


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 my 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.