The Tiger Poem by Irene C S ClarkHogg

A Glossa in honour of William Blake.

The Tiger


Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the dark hours of the night,
To seek thy prey. No man dare go
To view the sinuous muscles flow.
A fleeting glimpse in sparse moonlight,
Tiger, tiger, burning bright.


In the forest of the night,
Stalks the epitome of might,
Clothed in garb of gold and black,
Silently onward, not looking back.
From the darkness squeals of fright,
In the forest of the night.


Whose immortal hand or eye
Would dare create such majesty?
No form more graceful can be seen;
A creation from an artist’s dream.
From whom did this great image fly?
Whose immortal hand or eye


Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
Certainly no man like me.
Your grace and might beyond the ken,
The understanding of simple men.
Only immortal audacity,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry.