William Blake
The Tyger (1794)
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Tyger! Tyger! burning bright |
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In the forests of the night, |
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What immortal hand or eye |
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Could frame thy fearful symmetry? |
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In what distant deeps or skies |
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Burnt the fire of thine eyes? |
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On what wings dare he aspire? |
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What the hand dare seize the fire? |
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And what shoulder, & what art. |
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Could twist the sinews of thy heart? |
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And when thy heart began to beat, |
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What dread hand? & what dread feet? |
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What the hammer? what the chain? |
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In what furnace was thy brain? |
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What the anvil? what dread grasp |
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Dare its deadly terrors clasp? |
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When the stars threw down their spears, |
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And watered heaven with their tears, |
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Did he smile his work to see? |
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Did he who made the Lamb make thee? |
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Tyger! Tyger! burning bright |
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In the forests of the night, |
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What immortal hand or eye |
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Dare frame thy fearful symmetry? |