.
.
Over hill, over dale
Over hill, over dale,
Thorough bush, thorough brier,
Over park, over pale,
Thorough flood, thorough fire,
I do wander everywhere,
Swifter than the moon's sphere;
And I serve the fairy queen,
To dew her orbs upon the green.
The cowslips tall her pensioners be:
In their gold coats spots you see;
Those
be rubies, fairy favours,
In those freckles live their savours:
(A
Midsummer Night's Dream, II. 1)
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