A 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 veil'd the pole:

　　In the morning glad I see

　　My foe outstretch'd beneath the tree.