SAVE THE TIGER

Tiger image: Courtesy The Hindu

The Tyger, as William Blake (1757-1827) the poet saw in its pristine grandeur

THE TYGER

TYGER, tyger, 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?

TYGER, tyger, burning bright

In the forests of the night,

What immortal hand or eye

Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

-William Blake

And the Tiger Now!

THE TIGER

TIGER, tiger burning bright

In the forests of the night,

What mortal hand or eye

Would maim thy fearful symmetry?

What wicked mind with evil eyes

Does thy death devise?

On what pretext dare he conspire?
To what end dare he quench thy fire?

And what folly and what crooked art

Is ripping the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart ceases to beat

What dark day and what dread feat?

What the gun? What the shot?
In what furnace were they wrought?

What the trigger? What the aim

Dare thy deadly terrors claim?

When the stars throw down their spears

And water heaven with their tears,

Would he smile his work to see?
Would he who undid the cheetah undo thee?

TIGER, tiger, burning bright

In the forests of the night,

What mortal hand or eye

Dare maim thy fearful symmetry?

-T C Ghai