Little Fly

Little fly, Thy summer's play My thoughtless hand Has brushed away Am not I A fly like thee? Or art not thou A man like me? Oh, oh, oh Little fly 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 Oh, oh, oh Little fly Then am I A happy fly If I live, Or if I die --- Little Fly - Esperanza Spalding