XX. In wonted walks, since wonted fancies change

Sir Philip Sidney (1554–1586)

[First printed in Constable’s Diana, 1594.]

IN wonted walks, since wonted fancies change,

Some cause there is, which of strange cause doth rise;

For in each thing whereto my eye doth range,

Part of my pain, me seems, engravèd lies.

The rocks, which were of constant mind the mark,

In climbing steep, now hard refusal show;

And shading woods seem now my sun to dark;

And stately hills disdain to look so low.

The restful caves, now restless visions give;

In dales, I see each way a hard ascent;

Like late mown meads, late cut from joy I live;

Alas, sweet brooks do in my tears augment.

Rocks, woods, hills, caves, dales, meads, brooks answer me:

Infected minds infect each thing they see.