Dew Plant.... Serenade.
Reading edition
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.
Listen! from the forest boughs The voice-like angel of the spring Utters his soft vows To the proud rose blossoming. And now beneath thy lattice dear! I am like the bird complaining: Thou above (I fear) Like the rose disdaining. From her chamber in the skies Shouts the lark at break of morning, And when day-light flies Comes the raven’s warning. This of gloom and that of mirth In their mystic numbers tell; But thoughts of sweeter birth Teacheth the nightingale. Barry Cornwall.