The following is a student work from sixth grade student, Eric Faith, from Ms. Andrea Borges's class. The assignment was to write a poem using a poem the students studied in class from a different perspective. Eric chose to write his version from the perspective of the dog. The original poem is "The Poison Tree" from William Blake, which is below after Eric's original.
Great job, Eric, you've got some talent, my friend. And great creative, thinking assignment, Ms. Borges.
From: The Poison Tree: By William Blake
Adapted by Eric Faith
PERSPECTIVE OF THE SPEAKER’S DOG
It was a great
life, fed twice a day.
“Such a good boy
you are.” he would say.
But one day, he
and his friend had a fight.
But they made up,
and were alright.
One day, he came
home, upset and mad.
When I tried to
help him, he called me bad.
I looked at him,
and he screamed “Go away!”
I ran out the
door, and returned the next day.
“Ugh, you’re
back.” He said with hate.
He never filled
my bowl, that day I never ate.
This went on for
five more days.
Finally, I had
enough, and ran away.
I lived in the
street, a lonely dog.
I drank only water
from streams, lakes, and bogs.
I was sure I
would starve and die.
But then someone
came and looked me in the eye.
I recognized him,
he was my old master’s foe.
He was why my
master abandoned me, this I know.
This was the man
who made my master mad.
This man was
very, very bad.
“Come here, boy,”
he said, and he waved.
Suddenly, I
realized, he thought I was a stray.
He didn’t know
his foe had a pet.
He thought my
master was alone and upset.
The man took me
home and gave me food,
He pet me and
hugged me, for weeks, life was real good.
But one day,
after work, the man never came home.
Hungry, I jumped
up and looked out the window.
He wasn’t there,
and for six days never came home.
I sat there,
hungry, cold and alone.
Finally, I left,
and ran back to my old house.
I crept in, as
silent as a mouse.
I saw my old
master, laughing an evil laugh.
He was cutting up
pictures of his foe, I saw that.
He was the reason
his foe never came home.
He was the reason
I was all alone.
When he saw me,
his laughter stopped, and he began sadly coughing.
His face wasn’t
angry, now it had softened.
He gave me food,
and acted like a nice friend.
Now I know, I
will never understand humans.
The Poison Tree: By William Blake
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 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.
