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A POISON TREE
by William Blake
I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrathmy wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it notmy 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 outstretch'd beneath the tree. - -
THE END