:Of The Wand & The Moon: - A Dirge

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Me seemes I see the high and stately mountaines
Transform themselves to lowe dejected vallies:
Me seemes I heare in these ill changed forrests
The nightingales doo learne of owles their musique:
Me seemes I feele the comfort of the morning
Turnde to the mortall serene of an evening
Me seemes I see a filthie clowdie evening
As soon as sunne begins to clime the mountaines:
Me seemes I feele a noysome sent, the morning
When I doo smell the flowers of these vallies:
Me seemes i heare, when I doo heare sweet musique
The dreadfull cries of murdered men in forrests