They find it frost-bound, and they leave it green.
Alas, if grain or chaff grow then, depends
Upon the germs their rains have wrought upon.
XXXVI.
When Haydn grew less ill, could talk once more,
And proved our prayers for him were not in vain,
The kind physician urged that he and I
Be kept no more apart. My father then,
At first, would not consent. I went to him.
“My father,” said I, “do not fear for me.