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. 

And I water'd it in fears,

Night and morning with my tears;

And I sunned it with my 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 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. 

William Blake