Tyger! Tyger! burning bright     In the forests of the night,     What immortal hand or eye     Could frame thy fearful symmetry?     In what distant deeps and 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 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     Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?         William Blake