The Death Of The Fly.
With eagerness he drinks the treach'rous potion, Nor stops to rest, by the first taste misled; Sweet is the draught, but soon all power of motion He finds has from his tender members fled; No longer has he strength to plume his wing, No longer strength to raise his head, poor thing! E'en in enjoyment's hour his life he loses, His little foot to bear his weight refuses; So on he sips, and ere his draught is o'er, Death veils his thousand eyes for evermore.
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"With eagerness he drinks the treach'rous potion,..."
Exploring the themes of classic, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe delivers a powerful performance in "The Death Of The Fly."... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...