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[251]

I see thee still.

Charles Sprague.
I see thee still!
Remembrance, faithful to her trust,
Calls thee in beauty from the dust;
Thou comest in the morning light-
Thou'rt with me through the gloomy night;
In dreams I meet thee as of old;
Then thy soft arms my neck enfold,
And thy sweet voice is in my ear;
In every scene to memory dear
I see thee still!

I see thee still,
In every hallowed token round;
This little ring thy finger bound-
This lock of hair thy forehead shaded,
This silken chain by thee was braided;
These flowers, all withered now like thee,
Sweet Sister, thou didst cull for me;
This book was thine — here didst thou read-
This picture, ah! yes, here indeed
I see thee still!

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