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The Odes of Confucius 


1765-585 B.C. Collected by Confucius about 500 B.C.

Sadness

The sun is ever full and bright, The pale moon waneth night by night. Why should this be?

My heart that once was full of light Is but a dying moon to-night.

But when I dream of thee apart, I would the dawn might lift my heart, O sun, to thee.

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