The Tiger

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?





E MINOR A MAJOR





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 water’d 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?