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Love of Beauty
Who loves all beauty loves beyond that we see;
The gods give him a vision doubly blest;
He sees the bloom upon the hawthorn-tree,
But blossoms, too, that are not quite expressed.
He hears the music in the lyric rain,
The lark's enraptured notes that wake the dawn;
But far behind them one diviner strain
That is not uttered till the first is gone.
poem
by
Charles Hanson Towne
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