A Poison Tree

William Blake

1757 to 1827

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Track 1

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I told it not, my wrath did grow.
And I waterd it in fears,
And I sunned it with smiles,
I was angry with my foe:
And he knew that it was mine.
And with soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew both day and night.
In the morning glad I see;
And my foe beheld it shine,
Till it bore an apple bright.
Night & morning with my tears:
When the night had veild the pole;
And into my garden stole,
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.
I was angry with my friend;