The Fly - William Blake
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  1. #1

    Default The Fly - William Blake

    The Fly - 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 strength & breath;
    And the want
    Of thought is death;

    Then am I
    A happy fly,
    If I live,
    Or if I die.
    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~
    The rain it raineth every day
    On the just and unjust fella.
    But mostly on the just fella,
    because the unjust stole the just's umbrella :P

  2. #2

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    Gee Reks !

    Thanks for bringing back the mysterious Mr. Blake... Very beautiful poem.... !

    If thought is life
    And strength & breath;
    And the want
    Of thought is death;
    I particularly enjoyed the succinct description here.. thanks !!
    Short Measures
    It is a wretched taste to be gratified with mediocrity when the excellent lies before us - Isaac Disraeli

  3. #3

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    good one reks

  4. #4

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    thanks reks

  5. #5

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    yup, very succinct... and i like these lines too...

    For I dance
    And drink & sing:
    Till some blind hand
    Shall brush my wing



    ogi... one more from Blake's "Songs of Innocence and of Experience".
    This particular song, "The Clod and the Pebble" comes under "Songs of Experience", where Blake presents two contrary view of love..

    The Clod and the Pebble

    Love seeketh not Itself to please,
    Nor for itself hath any care;
    But for another gives its ease,
    And builds a Heaven in Hells despair.

    So sang a little Clod of Clay,
    Trodden with the cattle's feet;
    But a Pebble of the brook,
    Warbled out these metres meet.

    Love seeketh only Self to please,
    To bind another to Its delight:
    Joys in anothers loss of ease,
    And builds a Hell in Heavens despite.
    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~
    The rain it raineth every day
    On the just and unjust fella.
    But mostly on the just fella,
    because the unjust stole the just's umbrella :P

  6. #6

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    oh.. oh... This one is to good.. Not just contrary views but a delightful satire too.. I so like the middle stanza...

    hmm Clod of clay, trodden under a bunch of cattles? Or the pebble of the brook, eroded of its edges and infinitely shapely and slippery?... Which view is the right one??

    Think there is a part of each in Love.... Some have more of one and less of another, but most likely almost every one has a bit of both..

    Blake is amazging..

    Thanks a bunch for the poems Reks !! Bringing the poems of Blake is ALSO amazing.. thanks !!
    Short Measures
    It is a wretched taste to be gratified with mediocrity when the excellent lies before us - Isaac Disraeli

  7. #7

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    thanks vasan

    hmmm the clod with its innocent view... trodden under the bunch of cattles... and the pebble with its song of experience.

    yup as you say, everybody at one point of other would experience both. Some more of one and less of another

    :D
    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~
    The rain it raineth every day
    On the just and unjust fella.
    But mostly on the just fella,
    because the unjust stole the just's umbrella :P

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