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1852–1933

DOROTHEA

Henry Van Dyke

A deeper crimson in the rose, A deeper blue in sky and sea, And ever, as the summer goes, A deeper loss in losing thee!

A deeper music in the strain Of hermit-thrush from lonely tree; And deeper grows the sense of gain My life has found in having thee.

A deeper love, a deeper rest, A deeper joy in all I see; And ever deeper in my breast A silver song that comes from thee!

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