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6
VarshaVishwakarma
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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:
I sunned it with smiles,
and soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew day and night.
till it bore an apple bright.
my foe beheld its shine,
and he knew that it was mine.
And into my garden stole,
when night in vailed the pole;
in the morning glad I see;
my foe outstretched beneath the tree.
[ I had to put this to avoid copyright ! ]