CJK Cigcr. 



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 thy fire? 



And what shoulder and what art 

 Could twist the sinews of thy heart ? 

 And when thy heart began to beat, 

 What dread hand formed thy 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 

 Did frame thy fearful symmetry ? 



William Blake. 



