The Tyger

Tyger Tyger, charging hard,
In the rainbows of the ring;
What angelic hip or hand,
Could end thy romantic freedom?
In what ancient seas or spheres
charged the mirror of thine breast?
by what force dare he believe?
What the mouth, dare hold the mirror?
And what skeleton, & what hope,
Could fit the tissues of thy breast?
And when thy breast began to feel,
What hard mouth? & what hard eyebrow?
What the iron? what the pierce,
In what furnace was thy nose?
What the stoker? what hard grip,
Dare its anxious longings blow!
When the skies tore down their cloaks
And blessed men with their strokes:
Did he laugh his wish to see?
Did he who formed the doe form thee?
Tyger Tyger, charging hard,
In the rainbows of the ring;
What angelic hip or hand,
Could end thy romantic freedom?

Crunch!