THE TYGER

By William Blake

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 spears,
And watered 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?

 I love this poem.  The words that Blake chooses, along with the rhythm in which he arranges them, cause me to sense that the poet somehow sees the world from the outside; that is, that he can view creation as an observer rather than a participant.

 Admittedly, this poem may have never crosses my consciousness were it not for a song named after this author by the obscure band Daniel Amos.  (Note–see the link to the band’s web site here on this blog.)  The band then named their very next album Fearful Symmetry, and since I was a fan of DA, I became a fan of Blake.

 That phrase right there, fearful symmetry, is the best description I have found so far of the beautiful design evident in all the biological creatures that we discover along with the habitats in which we find them.  But that phrase, fearful symmetry, is about the only praise Blake has for the tyger.  We find out also that the beast has fiery eyes, a heart and a brain.  Roughly the same checklist of things that are important to Wizard of Oz characters.

Blake reserves his wonder for the maker of the tyger.  Although the fireiness of the tyger’s eyes is impressive to Blake, he’s much more impressed with the unknown location and the dexterity of the one who inserteed the fire into said eyes.  He seems to mention the tyger’s sinewy heart in passing, being much more enamored with the strength and artistic ability of the sinew twister.  And to be sure, our tyger has a brain, but Blake finds it more profitable to muse as to the tools that the creator of that brain has the audacity to use.  Like when we consider the guts it has to take to willingly operate a complex and dangerous machine like a space shuttle or an ice auger.

 Blake gives us a designer that is pleased with his work.  Not like one of us, who might spend 40 hours every week whiling away our work in order to get to the two sevenths of our lives that are our own; but a builder that creates for his own pleasure.  One who would build the tyger even if nobody else ever saw it.

 Blake repeats the first stanza at the end, changing only one word.  Now that Blake has thought through the steps it would take to build a tyger, he is floored that anyone would dare to do it at all.

This poem could have been written about any created being, although a poem titled The Ostrych might not come off quite as lyrical.  Because the tyger is not the subject of the work at all, rather it is the designer and builder.  And when you examine our own existence and the planet we live it on, that’s not really about us either.  We look like we’re starring in this show, but really it’s our designer that gets top billing.