AUGUST 21.
In vain do I stretch out my arms toward her when I awaken in the morning
from my weary slumbers. In vain do I seek for her at night in my bed, when
some innocent dream has happily deceived me, and placed her near me in the
fields, when I have seized her hand and covered it with countless kisses. And
when I feel for her in the half confusion of sleep, with the happy sense that she is
near, tears flow from my oppressed heart; and, bereft of all comfort, I weep over
my future woes.
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