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?
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
Very different than my usual, both the concept and the execution...but, you know, mind's immobility makes the spirit of art die. I titled this photo "The lamb" but I put Blake's "Tyger" as a description because the whole image is a contrast. It happens sometimes that the mild ones are the most dangerous.