Daemon Daemon, burning bright
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

Under what calm and bloodless moon
Did tear my thought's sinews?
From what recess does He peer? --
Such sightless command of fear.

And what eyes, or what call,
Could fit the margins of my soul?
And when this beckon fills my head,
Take it madness, peace, or dread?

Rend away such thoughts of He,
For this wrath inside me screams.
What this image edged in night's shade?
What the grasp of red orbs ablaze?

When the Deities crash the land,
And their blood soils the sand;
Did he-- the Tyger to the Lamb
come as the Daemon to Man?

Daemon Daemon, burning bright
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

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