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, & 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 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?
As a first grader took the stage at morning assembly, my eighth grade classmates and I sent up a collective internal groan and prepared to hear yet another recitation of “The Tyger.” Even the teachers braced themselves for this performance with the usual trademarks of a first-grade recitation: a lack of emotion and a want of clearly articulated r’s. But it was a classical liberal arts school; every student had to do an individual poetry recitation at morning assembly at some point, and William Blake was the popular choice for first grade. Deceptively simple, “The Tyger” was easy to memorize and appealed to a child’s imagination.So many years later, I do believe most everyone in the school has the verses seared into their brains forever, whether by design or not. We’ve joined the ranks of readers who, since its publication in 1794, have been entranced by the pounding cadence and vivid characterization of the tiger as an almost mythical creature.
At a different age, I can approach the poem from William Blake’s collection “Songs of Experience” with a new understanding. While the thoughts within it are presented in a simplistic form, appearing as almost childlike thought, they contain immense theological weight. Paired with “The Lamb” from his other collection “Songs of Innocence,” “The Tyger” pushes us towards the theological question of how the Creator of the lamb can also create something so powerful and capable of causing suffering to other creatures. In fact, not only does the poem introduce the question of how God can allow evil, but it also points to how the tiger is an unexpected reflection of God Himself.
Fearful Symmetry
Contrasted with the gentleness of the lamb, the ferocity of the tiger strikes us as terrifying. Blake expresses a childlike wonder at how God can make something so powerful and awful as the tiger and also something as gentle and sweet as the lamb. The tiger is “fearful” because it is powerful; it is capable of bringing about “deadly terrors.”At the same time, there is beauty in the fire and symmetry of the tiger. He is a reflection of his Creator; his power is a reflection of God’s grandeur. There is a certain awfulness in both, and though it is clear how God is like the lamb, it is more difficult to see Him in the fiery-eyed savage beast. Especially in our current age, we easily conceive of God as unfailingly merciful, all-loving, all-gentle, and welcoming, but we forget his justice and righteous anger.
However, God is not exclusively meek, and neither are his creatures. The same Lamb of God who willingly accepted his cross also overturned the tables of the moneychangers in the temple and called the Pharisees a brood of vipers. Though his power is tempered with gentleness, the intensity of his might is fearsome to behold.
The Immortal Hand
The tiger is actually not so much at the center of the poem as is its Creator, to whom the adjective “dread” is applied three times. The most frequently used word in the poem, “what,” refers to the Creator who shapes the tiger and expresses the poet’s wonder at the fact that the lamb and tiger share one Creator. However, the tiger’s creation is not a question of ability but of daring: This verb is the one difference between the first and last stanzas, and the daring of the immortal hand that frames the tiger’s fearful symmetry also characterizes the creature.Wisdom tends to come with experience. However, innocence is not merely naivete or inexperience. According to Blake, innocence and experience are contrary states that can exist simultaneously. Though we often see them as mutually exclusive, we need them to work together. Just so, wisdom requires what is good and holy in both the lamb and the tiger. Their gentleness and ferocity are contraries, but when purified they can exist peaceably within a world or a single soul.
The title also points us towards characteristics of the Creator rather than the creature. Among the possible reasons Blake changes the “i” to “y” in “tiger” is the intention of directing our gaze to the past with the use of the archaic spelling. It heightens the sense that we are confronted with an ancient force, with the sublime.
Moreover, the spelling is unfamiliar to us just as the use of a tiger as an image of God is unusual. To us, and to readers in Blake’s time, it strikes us as something both ancient and new, just like the beauty of God. Perhaps it’s even the slightest bit disquieting to prompt us into questioning like the speaker in the poem.
Blake is therefore recognizing the goodness of the tiger for what it is, praising its holiness as a reflection of its Creator and not criticizing it for not being a lamb. In fact, for being exactly what it is called to be, it fully partakes in salvation through the blood of the lamb.
“The Tyger” is the articulation of a crisis, a theological quest to better know and understand our Creator. Blake understands the artist by looking at his works, and in doing so he notes that opposite extremes are reconciled and exist at the same time. Innocence and experience, power and gentleness, these qualities exist simultaneously and fully in God, not by halves but as extremes. In him, every good achieves its fullness. The tiger and lamb are unified within one being and honored for each creature’s individual good.
