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 water'd it in fears

Night & 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 outstrech'd beneath the tree

William Blake