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To: SeeRushToldU_So
William Blake. 1757–1827


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?

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?

55 posted on 08/19/2005 7:47:50 AM PDT by Lonesome in Massachussets (Lonesome's First Law: Whenever anyone says it's not about the money, it's about the money.)
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To: Lonesome in Massachussets

Indeed.


102 posted on 08/19/2005 10:07:59 AM PDT by BenLurkin (O beautiful for patriot dream - that sees beyond the years)
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