[ [il] {550}
Through every weather
We pluck.—[MS. G.]
He'll sadly shiver
And droop for ever,
Shorn of the plumage which sped his spring.—[MS. G.]
[ [in]——that sped his Spring.—[MS. G.]
[ [io] {551}
His reign is finished
One last embrace, then, and bid good-night.—[MS. G.]
You have not waited
Till tired and hated
All passions sated.—[MS. G.]
[ [iq] {552} True separations.—[MS. G.]