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EXPERIENCE.
127
And because I am happy, and dance and sing,
They think they have done me no injury,
And are gone to praise God and his Priest and King
Who make up a heaven of our misery.
A POISON-TREE.
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 water'd 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 an apple bright;
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine,
And into my garden stole
When the night had veil'd the pole:
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretch'd beneath the tree.
