Come unto these yellow sands,
And then take hands:
Court’sied when you have, and kiss’d,–
The wild waves whist–
Foot it featly here and there;
And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear.
The watch-dogs bark:
Hark, hark! I hear
The strain of strutting chanticleer
–from The Tempest
Tell me where is Fancy bred,
Or in the heart or in the head?
How begot, how nourished?
It is engender’d in the eyes;
With gazing fed; and Fancy dies
In the cradle where it lies.
Let us all ring Fancy’s knell:
I’ll begin it,–Ding, dong, bell!
All. Ding, dong, bell!
–from The Merchant of Venice
Where the bee sucks, there suck I:
In a cowslip’s bell I lie;
There I couch when owls do cry.
On the bat’s back I do fly
After summer merrily:
Merrily, merrily, shall I live now,
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.
-from The Tempest