William Shakespeare
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. WJmZ/pytIK2F5Bw95cEgJaYKHWP/CvxDfosGTP3GkmoaG+S9+IVTJ2B2ywv+AjaL