William Blake

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.

Then am I A happy fly,
If I live
Or if I die.

Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

O Rose thou art sick.
The invisible worm,
That flies in the night
In the howling storm:

5Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.

The sun descending in the west.
The evening star does shine.
The birds are silent in their nest,
And I must seek for mine,
5The moon like a flower,
In heavens high bower;
With silent delight,
Sits and smiles on the night.

I walked abroad on a snowy day:
I ask'd the soft Snow with me to play:
She play'd and she melted in all her prime;
And the Winter call'd it a dreadful crime.

Cruelty has a Human Heart
And Jealousy a Human Face
Terror, the Human Form Divine
And Secrecy, the Human Dress

The Human Dress, is forged Iron
The Human Form, a fiery Forge.
The Human Face, a Furnace seal'd
The Human Heart, its hungry Gorge.