Wine Of The Fairies
I am drunk with the honey wine Of the moon-unfolded eglantine, Which fairies catch in hyacinth bowls. The bats, the dormice, and the moles Sleep in the walls or under the sward Of the desolate castle yard; And when ítis spilt on the summer earth Or its fumes arise among the dew, Their jocund dreams are full of mirth, They gibber their joy in sleep; for few Of the fairies bear those bowls so new!
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