These Summer-Birds did with thy Master stay
The times of warmth; but then they flew away
Leaving their Poet (being now grown old)
Expos'd to all the comming Winters cold.
But thou kind Prew did'st with my Fates abide,
As well the Winters, as the Summers Tide:
For which thy Love, live with thy Master here,
Not two, but all the seasons of the yeare.
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