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?
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