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21. Sep 2005

A poison tree

Blake: A 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 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.   
William Blake (1757-1827)