"Little Fly ...."

Little Fly


Thy summer's 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.

William Blake

"When the stars threw down their spears ...."

"When the stars threw down their spears,

And watered heaven with their tears,

Did he smile his work to see?

Did he who made the Lamb make thee?" (too?)

"The tree which moves some to tears ...."

The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the Eyes of others only a Green thing that stands in the way.  Some see Nature all Ridicule and Deformity .... and some scarce see Nature at all.  But to the Eyes of the Man of Imagination, Nature is Imagination itself.

William Blake