In Imitation of an Old Poem
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“How lovable, my cassia bough!”
The lone male bird remembers fondly his old mate.
At year’s end he had changed his roosting place’
Now spring has come, and still they are apart.
The hills and rivers block the long road in between;
The road is distant, cutting off her features and
appearance.
“Not that there is now one who could take your place,
But my small heart will never be untrue.”
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