I Am Drunk With The Honey Wine Of The Moon-Unfolded Eglantine, Which Fairies Catch In Hyacinth Bowls. The Bats, The Dormice, And The Moles Sleep In The Walls Or Under The Sward Of The Desolate Castle Yard; And When 'Tis Spilt On The Summer Earth Or Its Fumes Arise Among The Dew, Their Jocund Dreams Are Full Of Mirth, They Gibber Their Joy In Sleep; For Few Of The Fairies Bear Those Bowls So New!