How now, spirit! Whither wander you?


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:
I must go seek some dewdrops here
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.


Farewell, thou lob of spirits; I'll be gone:
Our queen and all our elves come here anon.


Goodbye, little one.

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