Sylvia's lattices were dark <br /> Roses made them narrow. <br />In the dawn there came a Spark, <br /> Armèd with an arrow: <br />Blithe he burst by dewy spray, <br /> Winged by bud and blossom, <br />All undaunted urged his way <br /> Straight to Sylvia's bosom. <br />'Sylvia! Sylvia! Sylvia!' he <br /> Like a bee kept humming, <br />'Wake, my sweeting; waken thee, <br /> For thy Soldier's coming!' <br />Sylvia sleeping in the dawn, <br /> Dreams that Cupid's trill is <br />Roses singing on the lawn, <br /> Courting crested lilies. <br />Sylvia smiles and Sylvia sleeps, <br /> Sylvia weeps and slumbers; <br />Cupid to her pink ear creeps, <br /> Pipes his pretty numbers. <br />Sylvia dreams that bugles play, <br /> Hears a martial drumming; <br />Sylvia springs to meet the day <br /> With her Soldier coming. <br /> <br />Happy Sylvia, on thee wait <br /> All the gracious graces! <br />Venus mild her cestus plait <br /> Round thy lawns and laces! <br />Flora fling a flower most fair, <br /> Hope a rainbow lend thee! <br />All the nymphs to Cupid dear <br /> On this day befriend thee! <br />'Sylvia! Sylvia! Sylvia!' hear <br /> How he keeps a-humming, <br />Laughing in her jewelled ear, <br /> 'Sweet, thy Soldier's coming!'<br /><br />Isabella Valancy Crawford<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/his-sweetheart/
