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 sunnå·‡ it with smile

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 veiled the pole

In the morning, glad, I see

My foe outstretched beneath the tree

And sometimes I

See magpie