And here, beside me, there are mosses green
In shelter'd nooks, and gnats in bright array,
And lordly beetles out for holiday;
And spiders small that work in silver sheen
To make a kirtle for the Fairy Queen,
That she may don it on the First of May.
XIII.
I hear, in thought, I hear the very words
That Arethusa, turn'd into a brook,
Spoke to Diana, when her leave she took