A Poison Tree

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 water’d 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 veil’d the pole:

In the morning glad I see

My foe outstretch’d beneath the tree.

 

William Blake

 

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