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'Tyger Tyger, 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 water'd 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?'

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Unlike Blake - I can spell - tiger - properly - lockdown walk pictures - I.

@patw @Scotshave @Missoni @Ferry-shave @Blademonkey @RussellR5555 @Boycie83 @Satanfriendly
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The father of English vision. Detail from The Red Dragon and the Woman Clothed with the Sun (1803/5)
 
Today the weather was beautiful, so Lisa and I went to the nearby west side of Seattle's Alki Beach, spread a blanket on the grass, and had a picnic lunch. We had a great view of the Olympic Mountains and Puget Sound, which was being enjoyed by a windsurfer. Sunshine, egg salad sandwiches and chips, and my honey. What could be better?
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