User:Pppppppppage

I was angry friende: Itold my wrath,my wrath did end. I was angry with my foe: Itold it not,my wrath did grow.

And I watered it in fears, Night and morning with my tear; And I souned 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 know that it was mine.

And into my garden stole, When then night had veiled the pole; In the morning glad see, My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

——by William Blake