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Poison Tree, (Revised)
-Blake-
I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did not end.
I was angry with my froe;
I told it not, my wrath did not grow.
And I water'd it in fears,
Night & morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with my smiles
And with soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright;
And my froe 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 froe outstretch'd beneath the tree ...
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