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WB (5) | 24 septembre 2009

William Blake. 1757–1827
  
489. 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          5
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?   10
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   15
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?   20
 
Tiger, tiger, burning bright  
In the forests of the night,  
What immortal hand or eye  
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

Publié par khodja à 10:00:28 dans TIROIR 09 | Commentaires (0) |

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