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Serving the spirits of the dead
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Plum-blossoms! is it that the sap
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Oh! little butterfly, with wings
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The Brook of Hatsuse
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When from the skies, that wintry gloom enshrouds
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Pity the dewy pearl be thrown
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Oh! the white clouds! nay, rather blossoms
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Oh! the camellia, which ne'er
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The Bridge to Heaven
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Of all the days and months that hurry by
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