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Little Fly,
Thy summer's play If thought is life
My thoughtless hand And strength & breath,
Has brush'd away. And the want
Of thought is death,
Am not I
A fly like thee? Then am I
Or art not thou A happy fly
A man like me? If I live
Or if I die.
For I dance
And drink & sing,
Till some blind hand
Shall brush my wing.
-- William Blake, "The Fly"
Who made the world I cannot tell;
'Tis made, and here am I in hell.
My hand, though
💃 -- 👳 -- 💙 -- 🔋 -- 🚗 -- 💚 -- 🎁 -- 🎫 -- 🌂 -- 🐳 -- 💗 -- 🚙 -- 📀 -- ⚡ -- ⛳