Tiger Tiger 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 wing dare he aspire? What the hand, dare seize the fire?   On 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? Done 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?   Tiger Tiger burning bright In the forests of the night What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry?   William Blake