Little Fly, br Thy summer's play br My thoughtless hand br Has brushed away. br br Am not I br A fly like thee? br Or art not thou br A man like me? br br For I dance br And drink, and sing, br Till some blind hand br Shall brush my wing. br br If thought is life br And strength and breath br And the want br Of thought is death; br br Then am I br A happy fly, br If I live, br Or if I die.