The Sylphs of the Seasons, with other poems

Allston, Washington (1779-1843)

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And next the Sylph of Summer fair;
The while her crisped, golden hair
Half veil'd her sunny eyes:
Nor less may I thy homage claim,
At touch of whose exhaling flame
The fog of Spring that chill'd thy frame
In genial vapour flies.

University of Virginia Library