Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Voiced // POEM SHARE: The Fly by 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. 

Video rendition of the poem:

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