Monday, November 17, 2008

Starting the day with 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 did 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 dread hand and dread feet

What the hammer? What the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dead 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 make the lamb make thee?

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

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