Over Hill, Over Dale

Over hill, over dale, through bush, through brier,

Over park, over pale, through flood, through fire,

I do wander everiewhere, swifter than the moonè'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 favors,

In those freckles live their savors:

I must go seek some dewdrops here,

And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.

—William Shakespeare.