Dorothea

3 0 00

Dorothea

1888⁠–⁠1912

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!