me seems I see the high and stately mountains, transform themselves to lower dejected valleys: me seems I hear in these ill changed forests, the nightingales doo learne of owls their musique: me seems I feel the comfort of the morning turned to the mortal serene of an evening. me seems I see a filthy claudie evening, as soon as sunne begins to climb the mountains: me seems I feel a noisome sent, the morning when i doo smell the flowers of these valleys: me seems I hear, when i doo hear sweet music, the dreadful cries of murdered men in forests.