Thou soft flowing Avon

Thou soft flowing Avon, by the silver stream,

Of things more than mortal thy Shakespeare would dream.

The fairies by moonlight dance round the green bed

For hallow'd the turf is which pillow'd his head.

The love-stricken maiden, the sighing young swain,

They rove without danger, and sigh without pain.

The fairies by moonlight dance round the green bed

For hallow'd the turf is which pillow'd his head.