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 Blake, Songs of Experience
Great post and terrific image.
July 13, 2015 at 8:28 pm
Love this.
July 13, 2015 at 9:17 pm
Great write and perfect image!
July 13, 2015 at 9:38 pm
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
Such a beautiful colour composition. You got me liking wasps before, but a fly is a stretch…
July 14, 2015 at 9:44 am
LOVED this, especially accompanied by Blake’s wonderful words….
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July 14, 2015 at 7:52 pm