“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


No comments:
Post a Comment