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to estelle.
81
They may not dream its love must burn
An ever quenchless flame,
How oft a chord within thy breast
May vibrate at a name,
But ah! a sybil's power is mine,
To read its hidden lore;
And the witching spell of poetry
Can a poet's heart explore.

I know thou lov'st the beautiful,
In earth, and air, and sea,
The sunset clouds, as they robe the west
In a gorgeous drapery;
The lurid glare of the lightning's flash,
And the meteor's path of light;
The silver moon, and the quiet stars,
In the holy hours of night.

The ocean waves have a voice for thee,
And the gentle woodland streams,
And they haunt thy heart with their melody,
In the far-off land of dreams;