William Blake · England · 1794
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.
William Blake · England · 1794
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.
“I was angry with my friend:…”
This poem is a dark meditation on the poison of suppressed anger and revenge. Blake contrasts two scenarios: when we express our anger to a friend, it dissipates naturally, but when we bottle up our rage toward an enemy, it festers and grows into something toxic and dangerous. The speaker doesn't confront their foe directly; instead, they cultivate their anger in secret, nurturing it with tears and false smiles until it takes on a life of its own.
“And I watered it in fears…”
The apple becomes a symbol of temptation and death—an echo of the biblical Fall of Man. The speaker tends to their hatred like a gardener, allowing it to flourish in darkness until it becomes irresistible to their enemy. The poem's ending is shocking and violent: by morning, the foe lies dead beneath the tree, destroyed by the very poisoned fruit the speaker created.
“And it grew both day and night,…”
What makes this poem so powerful is its psychological honesty. Blake shows us that revenge, like poison, ultimately harms the person who cultivates it. The speaker gets what they wanted—their enemy's death—but at a profound moral cost. The poem suggests that harboring secret hatred transforms both the hater and the hated, poisoning everyone it touches. It's a warning about the corrosive nature of unexpressed anger and the dangers of letting resentment grow unchecked.
“And into my garden stole…”
What makes this poem so powerful is its psychological honesty. Blake shows us that revenge, like poison, ultimately harms the person who cultivates it. The speaker gets what they wanted—their enemy's death—but at a profound moral cost. The poem suggests that harboring secret hatred transforms both the hater and the hated, poisoning everyone it touches. It's a warning about the corrosive nature of unexpressed anger and the dangers of letting resentment grow unchecked.
Why this poem matters
Written during the French Revolution, when Blake was exploring themes of social injustice and human nature, this poem appeared in his collection 'Songs of Innocence and Experience.' Blake used deceptively simple language and vivid imagery to expose the psychological and moral corruption that can occur when people deny their true feelings and nurse grievances in secret.