246 . SibD ^lant. 
Dew VhATfiT.... Serenade. ^ 
Inesilla I I am here : 
Thy own cavaliei* 
Is now beneath thy lattice playing : 
Why art thou delaying ? 
He hath ridden many a mile 
But to see thy smile : 
The young light on the flowers is shining, 
Yet he is repining. 
What to him is a summer star, 
If his love's afar ? 
What to him the flowers perfuming, 
When his heart's consuming ? 
Sweetest girl ! why dost thou hide ? 
Beauty may abide 
Even before the eye of morning. 
And want no adorning. 
Now, upon their paths of light, 
Starry spirits bright 
To catch thy brighter glance are staying: 
Why art thou delaying ? 
Barry Cornwall, 
