William Blake

(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827 / London)

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
124. To Autumn 1/3/2003
125. To Morning 1/3/2003
126. To Nobodaddy 1/3/2003
127. To See 3/30/2010
128. To Spring 5/10/2001
129. To Summer 5/10/2001
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
134. To Tirzah 1/3/2003
135. To Winter 1/3/2003
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
Best Poem of William Blake

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.

Read the full of A Poison Tree


Samson, the strongest of the children of men, I sing; how he was foiled by woman's arts, by a false wife brought to the gates of death! O Truth! that shinest with propitious beams, turning our earthly night to heavenly day, from presence of the Almighty Father, thou visitest our darkling world with blessed feet, bringing good news of Sin and Death

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