Tyger
Tyger, burning bright,
In the
forests of the night;
What
immortal hand or eye,
Could
frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what
distant deeps or skies.
Burnt
the fire of thine eyes?
On what
wings dare he aspire?
What
the hand, dare seize the fire?
And
what shoulder, & what art,
Could
twist the sinews of thy heart?
And
when thy heart began to beat,
What
dread hand? & what dread feet?
What
the hammer? what the chain,
In what
furnace was thy brain?
What
the anvil? what dread grasp,
Dare
its deadly terrors clasp!
When
the stars threw down their spears
And
water'd heaven with their tears:
Did he
smile his work to see?
Did he
who made the Lamb make thee?
Tyger
Tyger burning bright,
In the
forests of the night:
What
immortal hand or eye,
Dare
frame thy fearful symmetry?
by
William Blake (The Tyger)
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