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

William Shakespeare

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