A Poison Tree- William Blake (1757-1827)

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 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 behold it shine, And he knew it was mine, And into my garden stole, When the night had veil'd the pole

In the morning glad I see, My foe outstretch'd beneath the tree.