Louisa Stuart Costello

Sylph's Song

Fly with me, my mortal love!
   Oh! haste to realms of purer day,
Where we form the morning dew,
   And the rainbow's varied hue,
   And give the sun each golden ray!
         Oh! stay no more
         On this earthly shore,
Where Joy is sick of the senseless crew;
          But taste the bliss we prove,
          In the starry plains above,
Queens of the meads of ether blue.

When the moon is riding high,
   And trembles in the lake below,—
           Then we hover in its ray,
           And amid the sparkles play,
   While rippling waves of silver flow.
           As pure and bright
           As that gleaming light:
We watch the eddying circle's bound,
  And within those lucid rings
           We dip our shining wings,
And scatter showers of radiance round.

When softly falls the summer shower,
   Fresh'ning all the earth with green,
            From the cup of many a flower,
            While the purple shadows lower,
   We drink the crystal tears unseen.
            Then come away!
            No more delay,—
Our joys and our revels haste to share.
            Behold, where near thee wait,
            As subjects of our state,
The shadowy spirits of the air!