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Dew Plant.... Serenade. 
Inesilla ! I am here: 
Thy own cavalier 
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. 
