A Poison Tree

                A poison tree
                      Poem
                      by
                  William Blake

I was angry with my friend, i told my wrath and my wrath did end
I was angry with my foe, i told my wrath not and my wrath did grow
And so i watered it in fears
Day and night 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 saw it shine
And he knew it was mine
And into the garden stole
As the night doth veiled the pole
Come Morning glad i see
My Foe outstretched beneath the tree.