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.

The Complete Poems of William Blake - Complete Text

The Complete Poems of William Blake E-Text contains the full text of The Complete Poems of William Blake

• SONGS OF INNOCENCE
• THE SHEPHERD
• THE ECHOING GREEN
• THE LAMB
• THE LITTLE BLACK BOY
• THE BLOSSOM
• THE CHIMNEY-SWEEPER
• THE LITTLE BOY LOST
• THE LITTLE BOY FOUND
• LAUGHING SONG
• A SONG
• DIVINE IMAGE
• HOLY THURSDAY
• NIGHT
• SPRING
• NURSE'S SONG
• INFANT JOY
• A DREAM
• ON ANOTHER'S SORROW
• SONGS OF EXPERIENCE
• EARTH'S ANSWER
• THE CLOD AND THE PEBBLE
• HOLY THURSDAY
• THE LITTLE GIRL LOST
• THE LITTLE GIRL FOUND
• THE CHIMNEY SWEEPER
• NURSE'S SONG
• THE SICK ROSE
• THE FLY
• THE ANGEL
• THE TIGER
• MY PRETTY ROSE TREE
• AH SUNFLOWER
• THE LILY
• THE GARDEN OF LOVE
• THE LITTLE VAGABOND
• LONDON
• THE HUMAN ABSTRACT
• INFANT SORROW
• A POISON TREE
• A LITTLE BOY LOST
• A LITTLE GIRL LOST
• THE SCHOOLBOY
• TO TIRZAH
• THE VOICE OF THE ANCIENT BARD
• APPENDIX
• THE BOOK of THEL
• Sources