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How he longs for the day to end. How he grinds on to the end of the week and his wages. And so to me also have been allotted months of frustration, these long and weary nights. When I go to bed I think, ‘Oh, that it were morning,’ and then I toss till dawn.

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Like a slave longing for the evening shadows,(A)
    or a hired laborer waiting to be paid,(B)
so I have been allotted months of futility,
    and nights of misery have been assigned to me.(C)
When I lie down I think, ‘How long before I get up?’(D)
    The night drags on, and I toss and turn until dawn.(E)

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