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