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Chinese White
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The bent twig of darkness Grows the petals of the morning; It shows to them the birds singing just behind the dawning. Come dip into the cloud cream lapping; I can't keep my hand on the plough Because it's dying. But I will lay me down with my arms round a rainbow, And I will lay me down to dream. Oh, will your magic Christmas tree be shining Gently all around? Climbing up these figures The sun is tugging at my


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