Hello and welcome back to The Daily Poem. I'm David Kern.

Today's poem is by William Blake, who lived from 1757 to 1827. And frankly, I'm a little surprised that I haven't read this poem yet.

Today's poem is called Tiger Tiger, and it's certainly one of the most memorized most

anthologized most well-known poems ever written it was published in 1794 but composed in 1793

and was included in a set of poems called songs of experience william harmon writes in the

anthology that i've been referencing the classic

hundred poems that few poets have the, he puts a tremendous scope in writing verses that a three-year-old

can learn and verses that still baffle the most intelligent critics. And through it all,

Harmon goes on, Blake kept up a splendid sense of humor and an equally splendid sense of indignation and exasperation.

Let's get right to it. This is The Tiger by William Blake.

Tiger, Tiger 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? Yes. 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 seize the fire?

And what shoulder?

What art could twist the sinews of thy heart?

And when thy heart began to beat, what dread

hand and what dread feet?

What the hammer, what the chain, in what furnace was thy brain, what the anvil, what dead

grasp dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears and watered heaven with their tears, did he smile

...