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Reading room · The Tyger by William Blake (1794)

The Tyger

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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 seize the fire

And what shoulder, & what art

Could twist the sinews of thy heart

And when thy heart began to beat

What dread hand? & 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 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

Syllable counts are spelling estimates, usually right, sometimes one out.

What this poem says

Hard because: old spellings and repeated questions that circle instead of explaining.

The speaker is staring at a tiger and asking, over and over: who could have made something so fierce and so beautiful?

He pictures the creator as a blacksmith, hammering the tiger together out of fire and metal in some far-off furnace.

Then comes the real question: the same God who made the gentle lamb — did he also make the tiger? The poem never answers. It just asks, louder each time.