Before I go further, I must say that I am puzzled by his use of the word "tyger" when it is obvious from his notes that he means "tiger". If it wasn't for his being a denizen of the Third Galaxy and thus having no way to know anything about our Sweet William Blake, I would assume that this was a reference to Blake's poem, "The Tyger". "The Divine Image" and "A Divine Image". In fact, I would suspect that this crazy fellow affected a pretense that he had in some measure inherited the mantle of our English prophet-bard. But this is of course impossible, as he had no way of knowing anything of our bright and beautiful world!
Yet, we must still grapple with the question of his apparent ability to paint word pictures in works composed decades before it happened, which describe the essence of the ugly things which would all too soon unfold, visiting so much pain and sorrow upon the Third Galaxy.
Perhaps the best explanation is that the composer, having grappled with his own inner darkness, acquired an ability to comprehend something of the darkness lurking in larger world. The reader may well disagree, but that is not my opinion only, but that of several important commentators in the Third Galaxy, including that of the estimable Elmer Eggplant.
I hear a beast somewhere outside!_______________________________
It's a grumble-throated monster which I hear day and night!
When I awake from sleep at night, my sweat
in cooling sheets covers me. Yeah, I'll bet
you know what I am talking about!
I used to be afraid to take the garbage out,
afraid some "tyger" from the Zoo
was lurking in the dark, ready to bite me in two!
The beast of which I speak to you
came from no Zoo -- it is an image of me and you!
Danyell spent one night in the den
of lions and people think that it was hard on him.
But, what about Innocence,
the sweetest child of our common humanity?
Will angels come to her defense?
Will angels keep her safe from the beast's hungry rapacity?
During my early teens, I was terrified to take the garbage out at night. I feared that a tiger had escaped from the Poosah City Zoo and waited in the dark to pounce on me. I knew it was ridiculous even as I scurried out the door into tropic night, dunked the garbage in the can and ran back into the house, slamming the door behind me.
Danyell had to spend but a single night in the lion's den [Danyell 6:16-23]. But you and I and every one of us have to spend all our days – and nights – with other people, which can often be a bit more dicey than a single night with lions, I think.
The poem concludes with reference to a more general rapacity which lies in the shadow of our common humanity. Indeed, what can we do to save the Child of Innocence?