Sweet Sylvia, where does your heart now roam—
What distant lands do you now grace with glee?
Does still your smile outshine the golden sun,
And blind the souls of those so blessed to see?
Does your soft voice still echo distant songs…
Half-remembered, half-forgotten too—
Soft-fading notes when rousing strains have gone,
That soothe and linger like Jasmine perfume?
And does the moon still gild your raven hair,
Do doting stars still dance with mad delight
When you, sweet summer sylph, take to the air,
And float through silvered gardens in the night?
I know that ever where on earth you stand,
All eyes are one—your spectacle so grand.

©Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.