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Over Hill, Over Dale

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.

~William Shakespeare

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