La mouche/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.

 

William Blake from Songs of Experience. First published in 1794.

Done