34 lines
834 B
Plaintext
34 lines
834 B
Plaintext
The Tyger
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Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
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In the forests of the night,
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What immortal hand or eye
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Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
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In what distant deeps or skies
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Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
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On what wings dare he aspire?
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What the hand dare seize the fire?
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And what shoulder, & what art,
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Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
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And when thy heart began to beat,
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What dread hand? & what dread feet?
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What the hammer? what the chain?
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In what furnace was thy brain?
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What the anvil? what dread grasp
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Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
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When the stars threw down their spears
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And water'd heaven with their tears,
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Did he smile his work to see?
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Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
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Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
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In the forests of the night,
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What immortal hand or eye
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Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
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by William Blake
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