The Tyger
William Blake
1757 to 1827
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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 thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What hand, dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder, & art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And thy heart began to beat.
What dread hand? & dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain,
In furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp.
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw their spears
And water'd heaven with their tears:
Did smile his work to see?
Did he who made Lamb make thee?
Tyger Tyger burning bright,
In the of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare thy fearful symmetry?
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