Poems: The Fly
Updated May 6, 2020 |
Infoplease Staff
The Fly
Little Fly,
Thy summer's play
My thoughtless hand
Has brushed away.
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?
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.
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;
And strength and breath
And the want
Of thought is death;
Then am I
A happy fly,
If I live,
Or if I die.
A happy fly,
If I live,
Or if I die.
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