A Poison Tree - 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 small 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 outstretched beneath the tree.
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