The Tyger

William Blake

Tyger                  Tyger                    burning                  bright,
In             the            forests        of               the            night:
What             immortal           hand              or                eye,
Dare            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?