Disclaimer: I do not own Kenshin, the poem, "The Tiger," nor William Blake.
I am not making any money off this, so please don't after me with lawyers!

Killer, killer, shinning bright,
What bane will you reap tonight?
What immortal hand or eye,
Can elude thy fearful sword?

In what distant land of hate,
Does your soul berate?
On what wings do you fly,
By your hand, who doth die?

And what soldier, and what blade,
Could stop thy deadly terror reign?
And when thy terror halts,
Who will punish thine own faults?

What the sword? what the song?
What will stop thy hatred strong?
Who in death? who in life?
Could stop thy inner strife?

The when the moon shone bright and red,
And showed the people in their beds,
Did you realize what came to be?
Was your mind set afree?

Killer, killer, shinning bright,
What bane will you reap tonight?
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare elude thy fearful sword?