A 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 waterd it in fears,

Night & 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 veild the pole;

In the morning glad I see,

My foe outstretchd beneath the tree.

Древо Яда

Друг обидел, разозлил —

Я в словах свой гнев излил.

Враг нанес обиду мне —

Гнев зарыл я в глубине.

Сон утратил и покой,

Окроплял его слезой,

Над ростками колдовал,

Ковы тайные ковал.

Древо выросло, и вот —

Золотистый вызрел плод,

Глянцем радуя меня

И врага к себе маня.

Он тайком во тьме ночной

Плод отведал наливной…

Мертвым я врага нашел —

И с улыбкою ушел!

A Little Boy Lost

Nought loves another as itself

Nor venerates another so,

Nor is it possible to Thought

A greater than itself to know:

And Father, how can I love you,

Or any of my brothers more?

I love you like the little bird

That picks up crumbs around the door,

The Priest sat by and heard the child,

In trembling zeal he siez'd his hair:

He led him by his little coat:

And all admir'd the Priestly care.

And standing on the altar high,

Lo what a fiend is here! said he:

One who sets reason up for judge

Of our most holy Mystery.

The weeping child could not be heard,

The weeping parents wept in vain:

They strip'd him to his little shirt,

And bound him in an iron chain.

And burn'd him in a holy place,

Where many had been burn'd before:

The weeping parents wept in vain.

Are such things done on Albions shore.