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 watered it in fears, Night & morning with my tears: And I sunned it smiles, And with soft deceitful wiles. And it grew both day and night. Till I 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 veiled the pole; In the morning glad I see; My foe outstretched beneath the tree.
Posted on: Sun, 10 Nov 2013 15:32:13 +0000
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