William Blake: 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: The Fly, from Songs of Experience, 1794

William Blake: from The Song of Los, 1795, relief etching with colour printing and hand colouring: upper image from Copy A, British Museum, London; lower image from Copy E, Henry E. Huntington Library, San Marino, Ca.(images via the William Blake Archive)