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 with soft deceitful wiles.
and it grew both day and night
till it bore with apple bright
and may foe beheld it shine
and he knew that it was mine
and into my garden stole when the night had veild the pole
in the morning glad i see
my foe outstretched beneath the tree
No comments:
Post a Comment