The Fly
Little Fly,
Thy summer's play
My thoughtless hand
Has brushed away.
Am I not
A fly like thee?
Or 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.
~W.Blake.
Little Fly,
Thy summer's play
My thoughtless hand
Has brushed away.
Am I not
A fly like thee?
Or 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.
~W.Blake.
You can't go wrong with the master.