Blake asks the same question six times and never answers it. Follow the workshop imagery — hammer, chain, furnace, anvil — and notice what changes in the very last line.
Tyger Tyger, burning bright, In the ; What hand or eye, Could thy ?
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Tiger, tiger, glowing like fire in the dark forest — what immortal hand or eye could have shaped something so beautiful and so frightening?
In what distant deeps or skies. Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he ? What the hand, dare seize the fire? And what shoulder, & what art, Could twist the of thy heart? And when thy heart began to beat, What hand? & what feet?
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Where did the fire in your eyes come from — the deep ocean or the far sky? What kind of god would fly up to steal that fire, and whose hand would be brave enough to grab it? What shoulder and what skill could twist the cords of your heart into place? And when that heart first beat, what terrifying hands and feet were standing over it?
What the hammer? what the chain, In what was thy brain? What the ? what 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?
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Which hammer, which chain, which furnace forged your brain? Which anvil — and whose grip was steady enough to hold that much danger? And when the stars threw down their weapons and wept, did the maker smile at what he had made? Was it the same maker who made the lamb?
Tyger Tyger burning bright, In the forests of the night: What hand or eye, Dare thy fearful ?
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Tiger, tiger, burning bright in the forests of the night: what immortal hand or eye would dare to shape something so beautiful and so frightening?
One self, one landscape, one enormous feeling. Every answer comes with the reason and the line that proves it.
That's the whole thing.
Read it again slowly — it gets better the second time.