Nor does the Tyger consider himself to be evil.

We are invited, however, to come to the conclusion that the Tyger is not evil simply because of this unconformity, or because he might wish to eat us for supper.

It is beyond the reach of our rational analytical brain. Nor is the Tyger, Blake reminds us, anything that can be constructed in a furnace or hammered out on an anvil. With an obvious use of repetition and alliteration it is a poem that deliberately breaks the rules - rather like the Tyger itself, which cannot be ‘framed’ – that is, contained.Not the same God as made the Lamb! How could the Maker produce all the attractive and acceptable things in life, but at the same time create all those things that are ferocious or wicked? Could such a thing be the work of a loving God? Surely not. These are encapsulated in the notion of The Tyger, a kind of uber-beast. In this short poem about the life force, the poet contemplates things that are scary and ferocious – a tiger, something burning in the dark forest.The poem is to be found in a collection entitled ‘Songs of Innocence and Experience’ published in 1794 and should probably be considered alongside another piece written a little earlier called ‘The Lamb,’ thereby contrasting the savage and wild with the meek and mild.

Based on tone, why is it fitting that 'The Tyger' is featured in a volume titled, Songs of Experience? You must cite from and explain these lines in your response. Little lamb, God bless thee! Little lamb, God bless thee! The Tyger Tiger, tiger, burning brightIn 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 watered heaven with their tears, Did He smile His work to see? Did He who made the lamb make thee? Tiger, tiger, burning brightIn the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Dare frame thy fearful symmetry. I a child, and thou a lamb, We are called by His name. He is meek, and He is mild, He became a little child. The Lamb Little lamb, who made thee? Does thou know who made thee, Gave thee life, and bid thee feed By the stream and o'er the mead Gave thee clothing of delight, Softest clothing, woolly, bright Gave thee such a tender voice, Making all the vales rejoice? Little lamb, who made thee? Does thou know who made thee? Little lamb, I'll tell thee Little lamb, I'll tell thee: He is called by thy name, For He calls Himself a Lamb.

The tyger songs of experience