E-Text

Songs of Innocence and of Experience

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.