i was angry whit my friend:
i told my wrath, my wrath did end.
i was angry whit my foe.
i told it not, my wrath did grow.

and i watered it in fears,
night and morning whit my rears:
and i sunned it whit smiles
and whit soft deceitful wiles.

and if 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 vil,d the pole:
in the morning glad i see
my foe outstretch,d beneath the tree.