Eileen
Τιμώμενο Μέλος
Η Athena (1/3 ΜΕΤΣ) αυτή τη στιγμή δεν είναι συνδεδεμένη. Μας γράφει απο Θεσσαλονίκη (Θεσσαλονίκη). Έχει γράψει 7,414 μηνύματα.
14-07-19
17:12
The Fly
Songs of Experience - William Blake
*
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.
Songs of Experience - William Blake
*
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.
Eileen
Τιμώμενο Μέλος
Η Athena (1/3 ΜΕΤΣ) αυτή τη στιγμή δεν είναι συνδεδεμένη. Μας γράφει απο Θεσσαλονίκη (Θεσσαλονίκη). Έχει γράψει 7,414 μηνύματα.
12-07-10
13:33
SONNET 18
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee.
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee.
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