Sylvia
Composer(s): Oley Speaks



Sylvia's hair is like the night
Touched with glancing starry beams
Such a face as drifts thro' dreams 
This is Sylvia to the sight
And the touch of Sylvia's hand is as light as milkweed down
When the meads are golden brown 
And the autumn fills the land 
Silvia just the echoing 
Of her voice brings back to me
From the depths of memory
All the loviliness of spring 
Sylvia! Sylvia! 
Such a face as drifts thro' dreams
This is Sylvia to the sight