Tyger Tyger, burning bright, In the forests of the night;
On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand, dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder, & what art, Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
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?
What immortal hand or eye, Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?