William Blake

(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827 / London)

William Blake Poems

121. Eternity 1/3/2003
122. Three Things To Remember 1/3/2003
123. Broken Love 1/1/2004
124. And Did Those Feet In Ancient Time 1/13/2003
125. A Song 5/9/2001
126. The Garden Of Love 12/31/2002
127. A Little Boy Lost 5/9/2001
128. A War Song To Englishmen 1/3/2003
129. A Little Girl Lost 5/9/2001
130. Ah Sunflower 5/9/2001
131. London 5/9/2001
132. A Dream 5/9/2001
133. A Cradle Song 1/13/2003
134. Love's Secret 5/9/2001
135. A Divine Image 5/9/2001
136. The Angel 12/31/2002
137. Auguries Of Innocence 5/9/2001
138. The Tyger 5/10/2001
139. A Poison Tree 5/9/2001

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    not as good as Poe...but

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

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.

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