Linda R.

Ranieri
West Chester University
Explication of William Blakes
"A Poison Tree" (1794)
William Blakes "A Poison Tree" (1794) stands as one of his most intriguing poems,
memorable for its vengeful feel and sinister act of deceit. This poem appears in his famous
work Songs of Innocence and Experience: Shewing the Two Contrary States of the Human
Soul (1794), placed significantly in the "Songs of Experience" section. As with many of his
poems, Blake wants to impart a moral lesson here, pointing of course to the experience we
gain in our human existence at the cost of our innocence. With this poem, he suggests that
holding a grudge (suppressed anger left unchecked) can be fatal to the self as well as the
object of wrath. Through images, punctuation, and word choice, Blake warns that remaining
silent about our anger only hinders personal and spiritual growth, making us bitter, and that a
grudge left unchecked becomes dangerous, even murderous.
In the first stanza, Blake comments on the need to confront a problem if peace and happiness
are to prevail. When the speaker "tells" his wrath, it "ends," but when he "tells it not," his
anger "grows." Like an apple seed falling onto fertile soil, the speakers repressed anger
germinates and becomes the one obsession in his life. In the first couplet, Blake conveys the
image of a plant being uprooted, nipping in the bud (as it were) a misunderstanding between
the speaker and his friend. In sharp contrast, the speaker holds back from admitting anger to
his foe in the following couplet, allowing it to fester within. With simple language, Blake
neatly establishes the root of the poem, ending this first stanza with the foreshadowing
"grow" (4).
The second stanza depicts the speakers treatment and nurturing behavior towards his
internalized wrath, as he tends to it like a beloved plant; here, Blake stresses the "wrath =
plant" metaphor that is inherent to the poem. His anger becomes a living entity that he
"waters" and "suns" with "tears" and "wiles," and making it to grow "both night and day"
(9), hinting at his unfolding scheme against his foe. In describing his attentive care towards
this wrath/plant, the speaker unintentionally reveals his unnatural obsession with getting
revenge, while pointing to the slowly emerging anger as a force of its own that slowly
consumes the speaker.
The speakers vigilance results in "an apple bright" (10) in the third stanza similar to the
apple from the Tree of Forbidden Knowledge, this fruit stands at once as a harbinger of
danger and a tantalizing temptation for the speakers unsuspecting foe. The speaker becomes
the Serpent that tempted Eve, capitalizing on and exploiting the Deadly Sin of Envy by
allowing his foe to "behold its shine" (11). The crafty speaker brags about reading his foes
mind: "And my foe beheld it shine, / and he knew that it was mine" (11-12), implying the
ease with which he could fool his enemy by taking advantage of his foes natural curiosity
and covetousness. Blake ends this stanza with a comma instead of a period, accelerating the
fatal line of action into the fourth and final stanza, filling the reader with dread and
anticipation.
The foe falls for the ruse, deceptive in his own right as he stealthily slips into the speakers
garden to steal the shiny object (and proving the speakers suspicions right). Blake combines

the acts of breaking and entering and of theft into the word "stole" at the end of Line 13 (an
ironic line choice, too, if one is superstitious), with no ending punctuation that would let the
reader hesitate or stop for a breath.
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:
(Lines 11-14)
When taken together, these four lines powerfully sweep the reader into the poems climax.
Under veil of night, envy and curiosity get the better of the foe as the speaker foresaw
sneaking into the garden as darkness envelopes the "pole" or tree, implying that whatever
the foes intentions, they will remain unknown. The reader waits with anticipation and dread
for the final blow, knowing what will come yet wanting to see how ends. Blake further adds
to the drama by ending Line 14 with a colon, setting up the reader for what s/he thinks will
be the poems most powerful image.
Yet the reader does not learn what happens to the foe. The final image conveyed in the last
couplet is of the foe lying "outstretched beneath the tree" (16), breaking the poems flow of
action by flashing forward to the following morning. With the dawn comes the poems
resolution: the speaker is "glad [to] see" his foe dead, apparently from ingesting the poison
apple. The speaker seems satisfied that his scheme of deception has worked, getting rid of
his source of wrath by poisoning it with his unchecked anger and desire for revenge.
But why does Blake omit the murder scene from the story? Perhaps he wants to emphasize
the murderous means the speaker has taken to avenge himself of his enemy. More
accurately, Blake reflects the speakers frame of mind in this omission: as he wants to kill
his enemy, he also wishes to kill his conscience, blotting out the act of murder as he blots out
the source of his irrational anger. The speaker realizes he is morally wrong, but gets so
caught up in the moment and the seeming brilliance of his scheme that cannot stop himself
from seeing it through. Unchecked anger drives the speaker to commit this murderous act,
anger he cannot or refuses to acknowledge from the start of the poem. The mortal sin of
murder will forever stain his hands he cannot go on with living unless he suppresses the
event, as he did his wrath.
"A Poison Tree" suggests to me a prisoners confession without actually naming or
describing the crime itself. The speaker takes the time to brag about how he implemented his
plan, without admitting his crime. Thus this poems impact lies in the dangers that can arise
from allowing ones anger to grow unchecked and take over our minds, hearts, and souls,
like a wild plant in the garden of our experience.
Source: http://courses.wcupa.edu/fletcher/britlitweb/lranieria.htm