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.

[Adapted from Sir Philip Sidneys: "The countess of pembrokes arcadia" (1598)]