The PoemEdit

                -William Blake

Little fly

Thy summers 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 strenght & breath;

And the want 

Of thought is death;

Than am I

A happy fly,

If I live,

Or if I die.

Meaning of the poemEdit

The meaning will be comming soon... as this poem has a deep meaning.......

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