His Sweetheart

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