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.
More verses by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet Lvi
- Speech: "Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears"
- Sonnet Lxxvi
- Sonnet Lxxxvi
- Sonnet Lxxix