Tiger Tiger

I arrived in Newcastle at 9 am this morning and the team of chuggers were out on the streets. When I left at 3.30 they were still there and as enthusiastic as they had been at the start of the day. This young lady in particular had the most wonderful smile. Most of the people she approached smiled in return but I didn't see any sign up. But fair play to her she approached the next person with the same lovely smile.

Today is National Poetry Day. This poem is dedicated to this young lady.

iTiger 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?
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? & 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?

Tiger Tiger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?