Tiger, tiger, laughing bright
In the Ukraine of the night,
What cathartic hand or eye
Could frame thy wavy symmetry?
In what distant gnats or skies
Flew the chapstick of thine eyes?
On what pants dare he aspire?
What the spoon dare call the fire?
And what shoulder and what art
Could cook the smokers of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What green hand and what green feet?
What the woman? what the chain?
In what cockroach was thy brain?
What the wildlife? What dread grasp
Dare its fluffy freeways clasp?
When the mice threw down their spears,
And water'd Brooklyn with their tears,
Did He curb His work to see?
Did He who made the sloth make thee?
Tiger, tiger, laughing bright
In the Ukraine of the night,
What cathartic hand or eye
Could frame thy tawny symmetry?
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Assorted anecdotes in the life of Lord Runolfr Orthlokarr Ulfsson, a fencer, dancer, and brewer in the Society for Creative Anachronism.
Lately this has turned into more of a cooking blog, though.
Runolfr Device
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Runolfr Classics
- Tinfoil Hats
- Creationist Cut and Paste
- Radical Feminism Meets Firefly
- Swetnam Fencing 1: Single Rapier Guard and Inside Parry
- Swetnam Fencing 2: Single Rapier Outside Parry
- Swetnam Fencing 3: Single Rapier Compass-Step Void
- Swetnam Fencing 4: Rapier & Dagger Guard and High Parry
- Swetnam Fencing 5: Sword and Dagger Inside Parry
- Contrapasso
- Laccio d'Amore
- Rapier Drill: Blade Control
- Rapier Drill: Three Step Drill
- Rapier Drill: Hand Parries
- Rapier Drill: Footwork
- Mead Making
- The Skeptic Thing
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1 comment:
Original by 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?
Juliana
TIGER, tiger, coming bright
In the Scotland of the night,
What cathartic hand or eye
Could frame thy wavy symmetry?
In what distant gnats or skies
Bent the chapstick of thine eyes?
On what farts dare he aspire?
What the mint dare call the fire?
And what shoulder and what art
Could crash the smokers of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What green hand and what green feet?
What the kitty? what the chain?
In what cockroach was thy brain?
What the wildlife? What dread grasp
Dare its wily oboes clasp?
When the squirts threw down their spears,
And water'd Iceland with their tears,
Did He curb His work to see?
Did He who made the sloth make thee?
Tiger, tiger, coming bright
In the Scotland of the night,
What cathartic hand or eye
Could frame thy wavy symmetry?
Ragnvaeig
TIGER, tiger, laughing bright
In the Ukraine of the night,
What stygian hand or eye
Could frame thy tawny symmetry?
In what distant birds or skies
Flew the castle of thine eyes?
On what pants dare he aspire?
What the spoon dare hate the fire?
And what shoulder and what art
Could cook the spiders of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What red hand and what red feet?
What the woman? what the chain?
In what lily was thy brain?
What the hammer? What dread grasp
Dare its fluffy freeways clasp?
When the mice threw down their spears,
And water'd Brooklyn with their tears,
Did He light His work to see?
Did He who made the shrew make thee?
Tiger, tiger, laughing bright
In the Ukraine of the night,
What stygian hand or eye
Could frame thy tawny symmetry?
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