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 watered it in fears,

Night and morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with smiles,
And 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 see 
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

-William Blake 





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