The Tiger

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 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 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
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

The Tiger by: William Blake (source)

I first read this poem in Kate DiCamillo's book "The Tiger Rising." This poem came to me at a time in my life where I was very angry at pretty much everything and everyone. This poem seems to combine the beauty of a tiger and it's dangerous, wild nature. It was soothing to think that something so vicious, could be described in a way that almost seemed to praise that side of a creature. It made me feel almost powerful, conquering in a way, like I could rip apart any negativity that came my way.

So I'm very excited to be starting this blog. I was recommended to try this out from a friend, so lets get started.