Tyger Tyger, burning bright, In the forests of the night: What immortal hand or eye, Could frame they 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, & what art, Could twist the sinews of they heart? And when they heart began to beat, What dread hand? & what dread feet?
What the hammer? What the chain, In what furnace was they 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?
Tyger, Tyger burning bright, In the forest of the night: What immortal hand or eye Dare frame they fearful symmetry?
* So many people reach this site looking for Blake's poem "The Tyger," that I have decided to provide the full text. This is the version generally published in Songs of Experience. Other versions may be found in William Blake, The Complete Poems, published by Penguin Books, and elsewhere. Return