[Portable Poetry ...poems for your pocket]






[The book printer - Amman]

William Blake : The Fly

Little fly,
Thy summerís 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 (1757-1827)	P. 1793


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