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— Yuan Zhen Around the cottage like Tao’s autumn flowers grow; Along the hedge I stroll until the sun slants low. Not that I favor partially the chrysanthemum, But it is the last flower after which none will bloom.
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— Xue Tao Petal by petal you fell in late spring last year; Since you are gone, my paper’s wet with tear on tear. I am afraid you’d vanish like cloud in a dream. How can I wish to see you on Peach Blossom Stream? Your fragrance sweet reveals you have a loving heart;…
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Yang Yuwei had moved to a house by the bank of the Sishui River. His study faced an open wilderness. Outside the wall were many ancient tombs. At night, winds blew through white poplar trees, setting them to roaring like sea waves.