Sylvia's hair is like the night
Touched with glancing starry beams
Such a face as drifts through dreams
This is Sylvia to the sight

And the touch of Sylvia's hand
Is as light as milkweed down
When the leaves are golden brown
And the autumn fills the land

Sylvia
Just the echoing
Of her voice brings back to me
From the depths of memory
All the loveliness of spring

Sylvia
Sylvia

Such a face as drifts through dreams
This is Sylvia to the sight