William Blake (1757–1827). The Poetical Works. 1908.
Songs of ExperienceA Poison Tree
I
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.
Night and morning with my tears;
And I sunnèd it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.
Till it bore an apple bright;
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine,
When the night had veil’d the pole:
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretch’d beneath the tree.