November Poem--William Blake--A Poison Tree

Unlike my plan for the rest of the site, I have not real plan for the presentation of poetry--whatever happens to strike my fancy on a given day. If you were prefer some greater structure, let me know. In the near future I do plan to start "illuminating" the poems--providing explanatory notes and reasons why I like or perhaps appreciate the particular poems.

A Poison Tree
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
            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 veil'd the pole.
            In the morning glad I see
            My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

Besides being William Blake, who is one of the great, if one of the stranger, poets of all time, this poem has a special place in my heart because it gave title to one of the very few mysteries by V.C. Clinton-Baddley (My Foe Outstretch'd Beneath the Tree). I think this author starting writing very late in life and gave rise to only four complete novels and a fifth that was finished by a son. I don't recall the details, but I do remember liking the detective very much.