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Li Shangyin (Tang Dynasty) To meet is hard, to part is hard as well; the east wind weak, all blooms in ruin dwell. The silkworm spins till death its thread is done; the candle weeps till ash its tears are run. At dawn I fear my hair may turn to grey; at night I feel the moonlight's chilly ray. To Penglai Hill there is no distant way; let the blue bird go to her, I pray.