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Ceres, Invocation To: Quotations from Shakespearian Quotations

Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich lees Of wheat, rye, barley, vetches, oats, and pease; Thy turfy mountains where live nibbling sheep, And flat meads thatch'd with stover, them to keep; Thy banks with peonied and lilied brims, Which spungy April at thy hest betrims, To make cold nymphs, chaste crowns; and dark broom groves, Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves, Being lass-lorn; thy pole-clipt vineyard; And thy sea-marge, sterile, and rocky hard, Where thou thyself dost air: The queen o' sky, Whose watery arch, and messenger, am I, Bids thee leave these; and with her sovereign grace, Here, on this grass-plot, in this very place,— T.iv. 1.

To come and sport.