Whether the Turkish new moon minded be <br />To fill his horns this year on Christian coast; <br />How Poles' right king means, with leave of host, <br />To warm with ill-made fire cold Muscovy; <br /> <br />If French can yet three parts in one agree; <br />What now the Dutch in their full diets boast; <br />How Holland hearts, now so good towns be lost, <br />Trust in the shade of pleasing Orange tree; <br /> <br />How Ulster likes of that same golden bit <br />Wherewith my father once made it half tame; <br />If in the Scotch court be no welt'ring yet: <br /> <br />These questions busy wits to me do frame. <br />I, cumber'd with good manners, answer do, <br />But know not how, for still I think of you.<br /><br />Sir Philip Sidney<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-xxx-whether-the-turkish-new-moon/
