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 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 veiled the pole;
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.
It doesn’t take much to realise that hatred, in reality, hurts you more than the person you hate. I’ve often read that quote (I don’t know from whom) that unforgiveness is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die!
But it’s still an interesting poem from Blake!
Lis Goodwin – your voice coach