A Spring Honeysuckle poem from Shakespeare

The wild growing honeysuckle is in bloom in the neighborhood.   The bees and hummingbirds have found it way before I spotted it the other morning while on my walk.  I cut a small vine entwined around the dead tree branch covered with lichen then brought both back to the house to sketch.  The bees and hummingbirds will not notice the few sweet blooming flowers missing from their cache.

The script on the sketch turned out blurry after being scanned; it reads as follows:

“The pleached bower where honeysuckles, ripened by the sun, forbid the sun to enter.”   wm. Shakespeare