| I was angry with my friend
|
| I told my wrath, my wrath did end
|
| I was angry with my foe
|
| I told him not, my wrath did grow
|
| And I watered it with 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 its shine
|
| And he knew that it was mine
|
| Into my garden stole
|
| When the night had veiled the Pole
|
| He has cast me in shade
|
| Night and morning have I prayed
|
| Even turned their blood in me
|
| Oh, those of little loyalty
|
| I have watered it with fears
|
| Night and morning with my tears
|
| I have sunned it with smiles
|
| And with soft deceitful wiles
|
| With soft deceitful wiles
|
| And it grew both day and night
|
| Till it bore an apple bright
|
| And my foe beheld its shine
|
| And he knew that it was mine
|
| Into my garden stole
|
| When the night had veiled the Pole
|
| I was angry with my friend
|
| I told my wrath, my wrath did end
|
| I was angry with my foe
|
| I told him not, my wrath did grow
|
| Into my garden he stole
|
| When the night had veiled the Pole
|
| In the morning, glad I see
|
| My foe outstretched beneath the tree
|
| My foe outstretched beneath the tree |