The Striped Cat

Stryped cat! Stryped cat! who burns bright
In the dark wood of the night
What hand or eye not touched by years
Could frame thy form that makes us fear?

In what far off deeps or skies
Burnt the bright flame of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he lay claim?
What the hand dare seize the flame?

And what strong back, and what art,
Could twist the hard threads of thy heart?
And when thy heart the first time beat,
What dread hand? and what dread feet?

What the rock? and what the chain?
In what hot forge was thy brain?
What the hard place? what dread grasp
Dare its fears of death to clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And the skies flood with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the lamb make thee?

Stryped cat! Stryped cat! who burns bright
In the dark wood of the night
What hand or eye not touched by years
Could frame thy form that makes us fear?

                                -- Will Blake

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