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My latest dream...

The Last Tiger


In honor of China's last wild tiger...

The Tiger
by William Blake

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, & 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?

What the waves whisper...

I heard what the waves whisper...
lean into me and you'll hear;

the seas remember and long for peace,

for silent ships
and ancient leviathan

for massive shoals of sliver fish
and tales of heroes and sirens

for secret songs carried far
and deep pools along the shore

for respectful ocean tribes
and wise elders

for salty children playing, fresh and free
for great abundance; the quivering living masses that were

and are no more.

I heard what the waves whisper...
the seas long for peace.