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

 

-- Songs of Experience 'The Fly', Stanzas 1-3 (1795)

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