The 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.

I watered it in fears,
Night and morning with my tears
And I sunned it with smiles,
And soft deceitful wiles

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright
And my foe beheld it in shine,
And he knew 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.

- William Blake