CANTERBURY BELL 
I LOVE THEE STILL. 
To. 
Still dreaming on!—and still upon thy brow, 
The deepening traces of thy soul’s unrest, 
A weary “prisoner of Hope” art thou, 
And what is life to thee with love unblest ? 
My own fair dreams have vanished quite away, 
I read my destiny, when last we met; 
But happier far than thou,—one lingering ray 
Of light and inward joy is left me yet. 
I love thee still !—Such love as angels know, 
As guardian angels know for thee and me ! 
No thought of self disturbs the equal flow 
Of the life-current that hath set towards thee. 
I love and fear, because my vision reads 
The daily strife thine actions oft disclose, 
Between the higher life thy spirit needs, 
And earth-born aims invading thy repose. 
My warning mission will not be in vain 
If I but teach thy soul to plume her wings, 
And every day some higher region gain, 
Where she may converse hold with lofty things. 
If sometimes when I come with silent wing, 
To soothe with cheering notes each thought of pain, 
Thy listening heart should hear me when I sing, 
And deem the music not an earthly strain; 
But sent to rouse thee from desponding thought, 
And sinful discontent: because, in vain, 
One crystal fount of love hath long been sought, 
While streams of joy untasted yet remain. 
And if the pulses of thy soul should thrill 
Responsive to the pleading voice of song, 
And thy enkindled eyes reveal a will 
Forever pledged to triumph over wrong; 
