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[Newspaper clipping]

DAWN.

The waking sun with tender light
Betints the sky; an opal hue
Steals through the sable cloak of
night,
And Lo! the day is born anew.

My heart is dead with foiled desire;
but as I watch the glow of morn,
There flames in me an answering
fire,
And buried hope upsprings, re-
born.
LETTICE RUTHVEN SMITH.

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