Over Hill, Over Dale

Over hill, over dale,
Over park, over pale,
Thorough bush, thorough brier,
Thorough flood, thorough fire:
I do wander everywhere,
Swifter than the moons 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 dew-drops here,
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.

William Shakespeare