William Blake, Songs of Experience: The Fly
Little Fly
Thy summers play,
My thoughtless hand
4
Has brush'd away.
Am not I
A fly like thee?
Or art not thou
8
A man like me?
For I dance
And drink & sing;
Till some blind hand
12
Shall brush my wing.
If thought is life
And strength & breath;
And the want
16
Of thought is death;
Then am I
A happy fly,
If I live,
20
Or if I die.