The Tyger

Tyger Tyger, sparking hot,
In the silence of despair;
What appalling face or spine,
Could aim thy fitting adventure?
In what profound seas or sun
sparked the essence of thine lungs?
by what rule dare he effect?
What the lip, dare turn the essence?
And what body, & what power,
Could fix the limits of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What grave lip? & what grave buttocks?
What the hammer? what the blast,
In what oven was thy heart?
What the brazier? what grave grasp,
Dare its awful torments aim!
When the skies tore down their cloaks
And blessed men with their strokes:
Did he smile his art to see?
Did he who loved the cat love thee?
Tyger Tyger, sparking hot,
In the silence of despair;
What appalling face or spine,
Could aim thy fitting adventure?

Crunch!