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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 sieze the fire?
And what shoulder,
& what art,
Could twist sinews
of thy heart?
And when thy heart
began to beat,
What dread hand?
& what dread feet?
What the hammer?
and 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?
Tyger Tyger burning
bright,
In the forests
of the night,
What immortal
hand or eye,
Dare frame thy
fearful symmetry?
--William Blake,
The Tyger
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