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 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

Written by William Blake

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