tyger

 The Tyger - (William Blake)
   Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
   In the forests of the night,
  What immortal hand or eye
   Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

   In what distant deaps or skies

   Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
   On what wings dare he aspire?
   What the hand dare sieze 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 smite 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
   Could frame thy fearful symmetry?