Mischief, music, lady, this thief of time

Misleads me into wasting mine

Thinking of some words that rhyme;

Wrapping rhymes around a life,

Like a country Maypole, tattered, bright,

Bringing light into the dark

Sitting here in the Regent’s park

Where one midsummer night long ago

I was part of a dreamy Shakespeare show:

Where Bottom, the fool, makes an ass of himself

And lands up sitting squarely on the shelf

While Puck, enchanting, mischievous spirit,

Uses his potion to spread love’s merit

And so, by stopping time’s wandering eye,

Shows us that love looks with the mind.

And, therefore, is winged Cupid blind!