Songs of Innocence and of Experience (1826)/Songs of Experience/The Fly



Little Fly, Thy summer’s play My thoughtless hand Has brushed away.

Am not I A fly like thee? Or art not thou A man like me?

For I dance, And drink, and sing, Till some blind hand Shall brush my wing.

If thought is life And strength and breath, And the want Of thought is death;

Then am I A happy fly. If I live, Or if I die.