The Mind
A Poison Tree
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 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.
Codex Note
Wrath spoken dies; wrath hidden grows into a tree bearing poisoned fruit. Blake stages repression as cultivation — watered with tears, sunned with false smiles — until the enemy lies dead beneath it, and Eden’s tree is reborn as vengeance.
Cite this poem
MLA
Blake, William. “A Poison Tree.” Poetry Codex, poetrycodex.com/poem/blake/39/.
Chicago
Blake, William. “A Poison Tree.” Poetry Codex. https://poetrycodex.com/poem/blake/39/.
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