Classic Poem

La Sylphide

Reason may at times in fault appear;
Reason's torch is not for ever clear:
She that you were fables did declare,
Charming Sylphs, inhabitants of air!
But, her heavy aegis turned aside —
Scarcely through it could my gaze have pried —
I a Sylphide lately chanced to see:
Airy Sylphs, my guardian angels be!

Yes, on breasts of roses were ye born,
Children ye of Zephyrs and the Morn:
In your changes, brilliant without measure,
Lies the secret of our varied pleasure
Breath of yours our flowing tears can dry;
Pure you make the azure of the sky;
This my Sylphide's charms have proved for me:
Airy Sylphs, my guardian angels be!

I her origin have rightly guessed,
When at ball or banquet she was dressed,
So that I her infantile attire
Most, for what it wanted, would admire.
Buckle loosened, ribbon out of place,
To the graceful gave another grace;
Of your sisterhood most perfect she:
Airy Sylphs, my guardian angels be!

Your capricious winning little ways,
How in her new beauties do they raise!
She, perchance, may be a spoiled child too;
But, at least, the child is spoiled by you:
I have looked, despite her listless air,
In her eyes, and Love was dreaming there.
Patron saints of tenderness are ye —
Airy Sylphs, my guardian angels be!

But her loveable and child-like air
Hides a spirit, that may well compare,
For its brilliance, with the dreams you bring,
Ever smiling, to our life's gay Spring
From the sparkles of a living light
To the skies she bore me in her flight:
Ye, who lent her your own wings so free,
Airy Sylphs, my guardian angels be!

Shooting meteor, far away, alas!
Far from us, too quickly did she pass:
Shall I once more see her at my side?
Doth some Sylph detain her as his bride?
No; for like the Queen Bee's is her throne —
Her's an empire, mystic and unknown:
Thither, borne by one of you, I flee;
Airy Sylphs, my guardian angels be!