Flowers—Lines—Ice

The Fly

The Fly

 

The Fly

Little Fly
Thy summer’s play,
My thoughtless hand
Has brush’d away.

Am not I
A fly like thee?
Or art not thou
A man like me?

For I dance
And drink & sing;
Till some blind hand
Shall brush my wing.

If thought is life
And strength & breath;
And the want
Of thought is death;

Then am I
A happy fly,
If I live,
Or if I die.

William BlakeSongs of Experience

 

 

6 responses

  1. Great post and terrific image.

    July 13, 2015 at 8:28 pm

  2. Love this.

    July 13, 2015 at 9:17 pm

  3. photojedi22

    Great write and perfect image!

    July 13, 2015 at 9:38 pm

  4. Wow! I had completely forgotten Blake’s Fly! Perfect, absolutely perfect. You and I relate, don’t we? Chuckle… This is a gorgeous, poetic post. I love it, Lemony. 🙂

    July 13, 2015 at 11:56 pm

  5. Such a beautiful colour composition. You got me liking wasps before, but a fly is a stretch…

    July 14, 2015 at 9:44 am

  6. Julie Raulli

    LOVED this, especially accompanied by Blake’s wonderful words….

    ________________________________

    July 14, 2015 at 7:52 pm

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