Answers

2015-10-23T14:08:28+05:30
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.
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