“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 and morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with smiles,
And wish soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew both day and night.
Till it bore an apple bright.”
William Blake / speakingtree.in