The Tiger By William Blake

Tiger! Tiger! 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 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?
Tiger! Tiger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

by Nick Ryan

Comments (4)

Great poem, thanks for the share!
Once again I must agree with John Richter (and also with Kentucky Refugee) . No man can serve two masters, as the Bible says.
Haha! I agree with you Kentucky Refugee... I always find a certain brotherhood - or some commonality with generations past when I find them writing things that are so obvious to our own generation as well. The world is owned by Satan. From the myriad of different reasons men believe God put us on this Earth - the one commonly known belief is that we must choose our master - either that which owns the world - or He who created it. It is somehow comforting for me to know that men who lived long before me toiled with the very same thoughts that I do....
Driving down the road, uncertain of which fork to follow, at a certain point, ambivalence drives you right into the ditch.