William Blake Poems
|121.||The Voice Of The Ancient Bard||1/3/2003|
|122.||The Wild Flower's Song||5/10/2001|
|123.||Three Things To Remember||1/3/2003|
|130.||To The Accuser Who Is The God Of This World||1/3/2003|
|131.||To The Evening Star||1/3/2003|
|132.||To The Muses||5/10/2001|
|133.||To Thomas Butts||1/1/2004|
|136.||When Klopstock England Defied||1/3/2003|
|137.||Why Should I Care For The Men Of Thames||1/3/2003|
|138.||Why Was Cupid A Boy||1/3/2003|
|139.||You Don'T Believe||1/3/2003|
A 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 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.
Why Was Cupid A Boy
Why was Cupid a boy,
And why a boy was he?
He should have been a girl,
For aught that I can see.
For he shoots with his bow,
And the girl shoots with her eye,
And they both are merry and glad,
And laugh when we do cry.