-…. having exhausted most of my imagination trying to pick 649 winners, I am occasionally required to shamelessly steal inspiration from greater poets. That category (sadly) includes just about ALL poets. On that note, and as I recently have discovered that the following classic poem by William Blake is no longer required reading for the young, I provide it for reference. My humble parody follows”.
THE TIGER
BY William Blake. 1757–1827
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?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder and 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 dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd 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?
The Tabby
(with sincere apologies to William Blake)
Tabby, tabby, burning bright,
Beneath the deck, near my porch light,
What godless pain, or dysentery,
Could cause this strange cacophony?
In what keeps, or distant sties,
Were framed such dissonant and grating cries?
By what urge do you aspire,
The backhand you may now require?
What beating heart? What throat of sinew?
Bids such a yowling, to continue?
What furnace, chain, or kitchen door,
Has caught your tail: caused this uproar?
And at the risk of sounding trite,
Are you inspired by Godless might,
To ruin my dreamless, darkened sleep,
Or from a cliff, cause me to leap?
From Heaven’s height, what sharpened spear,
Has poked you near, or on, your rear?
What peen and anvil, in my brain,
Could match this terrible refrain?
Tabby, Tabby, burning bright,
Neath the deck, evoking fright,
What werewolf’s howl or witch’s spree,
Could match this fearsome symphony?
-…. having exhausted most of my imagination trying to pick 649 winners, I am occasionally required to shamelessly steal inspiration from greater poets. That category (sadly) includes just about ALL poets. On that note, and as I recently have discovered that the following classic poem by William Blake is no longer required reading for the young, I provide it for reference. My humble parody follows”.
THE TIGER
BY William Blake. 1757–1827
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?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder and 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 dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And water'd 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?
The Tabby
(with sincere apologies to William Blake)
Tabby, tabby, burning bright,
Beneath the deck, near my porch light,
What godless pain, or dysentery,
Could cause this strange cacophony?
In what keeps, or distant sties,
Were framed such dissonant and grating cries?
By what urge do you aspire,
The backhand you may now require?
What beating heart? What throat of sinew?
Bids such a yowling, to continue?
What furnace, chain, or kitchen door,
Has caught your tail: caused this uproar?
And at the risk of sounding trite,
Are you inspired by Godless might,
To ruin my dreamless, darkened sleep,
Or from a cliff, cause me to leap?
From Heaven’s height, what sharpened spear,
Has poked you near, or on, your rear?
What peen and anvil, in my brain,
Could match this terrible refrain?
Tabby, Tabby, burning bright,
Neath the deck, evoking fright,
What werewolf’s howl or witch’s spree,
Could match this fearsome symphony?
