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on Castaraes sittinge on Primrose banks
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

See how the little Starrs in Azure nights
When Cynthia's present cast their tremblinge lights
As fearfull least her Numerous Sparks might moue her
And winke a welcome to the wakefull Louer.
So when castara satt; The primrose banks
Shrunke up their odours in their yellow ranks
For what are all the sweets together mett
If but compared to the violett:
Yeat lily sheppardesses in their bowre
Mistake this sweete and call it gilly-flower.
What ere it be; it seems for worth and price
A plant for princes out of paradice.