“The fire in the Tyger caught my hair,” she said, but I think it was the fire within her

I watched her circling her long red burning hair all around her like a blanket, no, not a blanket, a shawl that flew through the air and spread burning sparkles far, far, into the night, setting all her surrounding on fire. Bonfire.

Then she blazed up and disappeared. I looked around me, only to see small remains of the laughing sparkles from her red eyes circling the darkness in the depth of the forest, tempting me to follow;

“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?”

— William Blake