To Estelle

Coy, sweet maid, I love so well,             Fair Estelle.     How much I love thee tongue can't tell,             Sweet Estelle.     But I love thee - love thee true -     More than violets love the dew,     More than roses love the sun -     Do I love thee, dearest one,             Dear Estelle!     Ah! my heart love's passions swell             For Estelle!     How I love my actions tell             Thee, Estelle:     That I love thy smiling face,     And thy captivating grace -     Love thy dreamy 'witching eyes     More than planets love the skies,             Wee Estelle!     Now I smite my lyre to swell             For Estelle;     Music's most entrancing spell             O'er Estelle.     With my fingers on my keys,     Like the balmy morning breeze     Stealing softly through the grain,     Will I gently wake a strain             For Estelle!     How I love my little belle,             My Estelle!     Deepest in my sacred dell             Is Estelle!     I esteem my maiden love     More than angels high above,     More than demons in the sea;     Love is light and life to me,             And Estelle!