A Poison Tree
William BlakeA 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 & morning with my tears
And I sunned it with my 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

My pastor shared this poem with us today. He said that in all cases of murder or sin, God isn't so much interested in the act itself, but more of the attitude within. In other words, don't bear grudges. Thought the peom was pretty interesting. The foe died. ha.