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My favorite poem

This posting is going to be a bit random. I have absolutely nothing to post about since my life, at this point, is completely and utterly boring. So, I have decided to reveal to everyone something about me. For starters I hate poetry. Yes, I have no appreciation for poetry whatsoever. Fortunately, there is ALWAYS an exception to everything. I have for your reading pleasure, a poem. Not just any poem but my favorite poem. I've enjoyed this one immensely since I was a wee lad in 6th grade. I understand that most of you have probably read this poem many times over and will inevitably think, "Can't this guy not pick any other, more unique, poem than this?" Honestly, I probably couldn't tell you what good poetry is if it hit me in the face. All I'm saying is that this is my favorite one out of all the ones that I can remember reading. So for your reading pleasure I present to you, my favorite poem. 

         The Tiger
         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 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 water'd 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? 

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October 2009