Over hill, over dale,
Through bush, through briar,
Over park, over pale,
Through flood, Through 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 hand a pearl in every cowslip's ear.