Ye sylphs, who banquet on my Delia's blush,
Who on her locks of FLOATING GOLD repose,
Dip in her cheek your GOSSAMERY BRUSH,
And with its bloom of beauty tinge THE ROSE.
Hover around her lips on rainbow wing,
Load from her honey'd breath your viewless feet,
Bear thence a richer fragrance for the Spring
And make the lily and the violet sweet.
Ye GNOMES, whose toil through many a dateless year
Its nurture to the infant gem supplies,