William Blake poetry

An extract from “ a poision tree” – William blake
 

“I was angry with my friend:

I told my wrath, my wrath did end.

I  was angry with my for:

I told it not, my wrath did grow,”

 

“the lilly” – William blake

 

“ the modest rose puts forth a thorn:

The humble sheep, a threatening horn.

While the lilly white, shall in love delight,

Nor a thorn, nor a threat stain her beauty bright.”