Blake is one of my favourite poets, though most of his poems are dark and desperate. In terms of a favourite verse, it’s actually a tie between The Tiger and this one. As most people know Tiger, tiger, burning bright… I’ve gone for The Poison Tree, which is an odd poem about anger and revenge.
The Poison Tree
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 & 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 veild the pole;
In the morning glad I see;
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.