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 Dec 2013
Jacob Dexter Coffey
My rendition of Blake's "Tyger Tyger":
-JDC

Tyger Tygre, burning bright,
Beast of darkness in the night;
Pure immortal skin and sight,
How to define thine fatal might...

Where in far lows or distant highs,
Scorched the burning in thine eyes?
Whereby oh how doth he aspire?
Who dare challenge the power of his fire!

And what shoulder and swift art,  
Could trash the fibres of thy heart?
And when thy blood began to beat,
What deadly hand and frightened feet?

What new steel? And rusted chain,
In what hearth, thy rotting brain?
What the molten? And what hold,
Dare spark a soldier oh so bold,  

When the Lights denounce their fears,
And drench the hallows with corrupt tears:
Did he grin his soul to see?
Did maker of the made make thee?

Tyger Tygre, burning bright,
In dark depths of deepest night:
What infinite curse or dye,
Dare fault thy monstrous symmetri?
 Dec 2013
Jacob Dexter Coffey
On this very day so dreary,
While I wrote poetry weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, there came a tapping,
As of some one gently r-r-r-rapping at my bedroom door.
''Tis some visitor,' I muttered, 'rap-tapping at my bedroom door -
Only this, and nothing, oh I say Poe Nothing- more.'

This is what happens when we improvise Edgar Allan Poe. on dark days.

— The End —