Tiger, tiger.

Today finished tidying up the garden, before the winter.
Gone are the dahlias, begonias, and nasturtiums, etc.
Mr C has taken two huge bags full of garden rubbish to the tip.

So have now planted tulips, and daffodils in the pots, as well as some violas.

This little one is called Angel Tiger Eyes.
Such lovely markings.

Then suddenly it reminded me of a poem I used to love when at school:

The Tiger

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 scize 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 dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dead 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?

By William Blake 1757 - 1827