The Tyger

Songs of Experience, 1794

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 sieze 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 spearsAnd 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?

Transcribed from Blake's own 1794 illuminated plate of Songs of Experience (British Museum copy), via the English Wikisource proofread of that plate. Blake's spelling and punctuation are kept exactly — "Tyger", "sieze", the ampersands, the stray full stops — because they are engraved, not misprinted, and no two typeset editions agree on how to correct them.

Public domainThis poem is in the public domain. You may read it, copy it, recite it and publish it without asking anyone.

About the poem

William Blake engraved Songs of Experience in 1794, printing each page himself from a copper plate he had drawn and lettered by hand — text and picture in one image, coloured by him one copy at a time. The Tyger is its best-known page, the dark twin of The Lamb in the earlier Songs of Innocence.

The whole poem is questions and never an answer. Twenty-four lines, and almost every one asks who could have made this animal — what hand, what eye, what hammer, what furnace, what daring — until the fourth stanza turns a blacksmith's forge into the making of a living thing, and the fifth asks the one that matters: Did he who made the Lamb make thee? The maker of the gentle thing and the maker of the terrible thing are the same, and the poem will not say how that can be.

Blake's own hand is all over it — the spelling Tyger, the sieze, the ampersands, the odd stops that fall mid-line. Editors have tidied them for two hundred years; this page leaves them, because they are what he cut into the plate.