... 

The moon's my constant mistresse,
And the lovely owl's my marrowe;
   The flaming Drake 
   and the night-crowe make
me music to my sorrowe.

 ... 

I know more than Apollo,
for oft when he lies sleeping
   I behold  the stars 
   at mortal wars
and the rounded welkin weeping;

The moone embraces her shepheard,
And the Queen of love her warryor.
   While the first does horn the stars of the morn,
And the next the heavenly Farrier.

 ... 

With an heart of furious fancies,
whereof I am commander,
   With a burning spear 
   and a horse of air,
to the wilderness I wander.

With a knight of ghostes and shadows
I summoned am to tourney.
   Ten leagues beyond 
   the wide world's end.
Methinks it is no journey.

 ...