I was angry with my friend: <br />I told my wrath, my wrath did end. <br />I was angry with my foe: <br />I told it not, my wrath did grow. <br /> <br />And I watered it in fears, <br />Night and morning with my tears; <br />And I sunned it with smiles, <br />And with soft deceitful wiles. <br /> <br />And it grew both day and night, <br />Till it bore an apple bright. <br />And my foe beheld it shine. <br />And he knew that it was mine, <br /> <br />And into my garden stole <br />When the night had veiled the pole; <br />In the morning glad I see <br />My foe outstretched beneath the tree.<br /><br />William Blake<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-poison-tree/
