Tyger Tyger

Tyger, Tyger, 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 grasp the fire?

What the 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, and what the chain
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil, what dread grasp
Dare thy 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?

Tyger, Tyger, burning bright
In the forests of the night
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

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