Songs of Experience

by William Blake

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The Fly

A picture for the book Songs of Experience

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.

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It ain't what you don't know that gets you into trouble. It's what you know for sure that just ain't so.