A Poison Tree

l was angry with my friend:
l told my wrath, my wrath did end.
l was angry with my foe:
l told it not, my wrath did grow.

And l water'd it in fears,
Night and morning with my tears;
And l 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 l see
My foe outstrech'd beneath the tree


William Blake