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So weary am I, and so fain To see his face, to feel his kiss Thrill rapture through my soul again, There is no hell like this. - Ah, God! my God, were it not best To give me rest, to give me rest? 6 She writes to him to come to her. Dead lie the dreams we cherished, The dreams we loved so well; Like forest leaves they perished, Like autumn leaves they fell. Alas! that dreams so soon should pass! Alas! Alas!
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