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 water'd 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,

Til 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 veil'd the pole:

In the morning glad I see

My foe outstretch'd beneath the tree.

I'm just going to leave this hear for you to read and enjoy, and hopefully think about. Just let it sink in and take from it what you will, though I think the message is a fairly clear one in this case.

As always, I'm happy to include an analysis, should someone ask for it.

((If you have any further questions, would like to make a suggestion for a future poem/topic of discussion, or would like a deeper analysis of this poem, please inform me by leaving a comment below. I will address any and all comments in the order they are received, as quickly as I can.))