The Tiger By William Blake…

tiger wuss

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?

9 Responses to “The Tiger By William Blake…”

  1. Tony Grands says:


    On, a dude said “either Tiger tells us, or TMZ does”.

  2. chea says:

    that tiger went tiger! (c) chris rock

  3. chea says:

    she slightly cross eyed and got them DSLs – i would smiznash

  4. Hit me! Jab Me!
    Make me say I did it.
    Blood on my sport shirt
    And my tan suede shoes

    — Langston Hughes, from “Third Degree” from…


  5. 6 100 says:


  6. Tony Grands says:

    Cheating on a white women, with a white women, domestic violence, crashing Cadillacs, Tiger’s letting his Black side show these days. All he needs now is a pack of Newports & an affinity for Grape soda.

  7. Aunt Jackie says:

    lovely ode to a man who fought being black his whole life who is about to feel what’s it’s like to be looked at like a common negro…

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