From poem "On Shakespeare" by William Lisle Bowles (1762-1850), 5th stanza Mark the merry elves of fairy land! In the cold moon's gleamy glance, They with shadowy morris dance, Soft music dies along the desert land, Soon at peep of cool eyed day, Soon the numerous lights decay. Merrily now, merrily, merrily now, After the dewy moon they fly.
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