“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
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