A poem by 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 deeps or skies
Burnt the fire in thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder, and what art?
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand, and 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 watered 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?
It's still poetry month--and I was an English major.
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3 comments:
I was born in the year of the Tiger, and my Dad used to recite this to me at night.
Between that and my mother singing "Brown Eyed Girl" to me (until my horror at learnin the "other" meaning), I have some very good childhood memories in there amongst everything else.
Ah, another English major. I wonder how many bloggers are English majors? Probably the majority.
It's my impression that many bloggers are IT types.
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