William Blake
Lamb, who created you?
Do you know who created you?
Give you life, give you food
On streams and grasslands;
Give you happy clothes,
The softest clothes, wool, are bright;
Gave you such a gentle voice,
Let all the valleys rejoice?
Lamb, who created you?
Do you know who created you?
Lamb, I tell you,
Lamb, I want to tell you:
He was named after you,
Because he calls himself a lamb.
He is gentle, he is gentle;
He became a child.
I am a child and you are a lamb.
We named it after him.
Lamb, God bless you!
Lamb, God bless you!
tiger
William Blake
1757- 1827
Tiger, tiger, burning light
In the forest at night,
What immortal hands or eyes?
Can shape your terrible symmetry.
How far in the depth or sky?
Burn the flame in your eyes?
Why does he dare to yearn for it?
What kind of hand dares to catch fire?
What kind of shoulders and art
Will distort the muscles of your heart?
When your heart starts to beat,
What kind of hands and feet of fear?
What hammer? What chain?
What furnace is your brain in?
What anvil? What a terrible grip
Dare to catch its deadly terror?
When the stars cast their spears,
Watering heaven with their tears,
Did he read his work with a smile?
Did the God who made the lamb make you?
Tiger, tiger, burning light
In the forest at night,
What immortal hands or eyes?
Dare to frame your terrible symmetry?