The Fly

Little fly, thy summer's play My thoughtless hand has brushed away Am I not a fly like thee? Or art thou not 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 I am a happy fly If I live or if I die Then I am a happy fly If I live or if I die Then I am a happy fly If I live or if I die Then I am a happy fly If I live or if I die Little fly, thy summer's play My thoughtless hand has brushed away Am I not a fly like thee? Or art thou not 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 I am a happy fly If I live or if I die Then I am a happy fly If I live or if I die Then I am a happy fly If I live or if I die Then I am a happy fly If I live or if I die