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 & 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 outstrech'd beneath the tree.