A Poison Tree Benjamin Britten

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 & 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