| Hunt and Lee, comps. The Book of the Sonnet. 1867. | | | | II. “Still unto thee, my brightest, fairest, best” | | By Rev. Norman Pinney (1800–1862) |
| | | STILL unto thee, my brightest, fairest, best, | |
| The wandering heart returns as the pure dove | |
| Seeking in vain the olive-branch of love, | |
| Nor finding peace save in its ark of rest. | |
| My flight has been wide, o’er the tossing wave: | 5 |
| Nor bower, nor tree, nor mantling vine were there; | |
| And like rich pearls deep in their ocean cave, | |
| Were hidden all things beautiful and fair. | |
| Send me not forth again, though the fair sky | |
| Smile o’er the green enamelling of earth; | 10 |
| Bright joys again be clustered round the hearth, | |
| And the air rife with breathing melody; | |
| Still to its resting-place the dove would flee;— | |
| Angel of beauty! shall it dwell with thee? | | | | |
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