Work-Book

 1   T-I|     udders to be drained by your tender throat,~or you’d think my
 2  T-II|         not alone in having sung tender love-songs:~but I’m the
 3 T-III|        born for idle ease,~I was tender, and incapable of labour,~
 4 T-III|         LIE HERE, WHO TOYED WITH TENDER LOVE,~OVID THE POET BETRAYED
 5 T-III| discerned it, in your girlhood’s tender years,~when I was your friend
 6 T-III|       show through, unfurl their tender tips from the earth.~Wherever
 7  T-IV|       was, ~this playful poet of tender passions you read.~Sulmo’
 8  T-IV|         began our education at a tender age, and, through~our father’
 9  T-IV|          lost.~Still, I achieved tender youth’s first honours,~since
10   T-V|      Tiber’s yellow sand,~as the tender grasses in the Field of
11   T-V|     power conquers him,~he has a tender heart for the prayers of
12  ExIV|         holding to Callimachus’s tender path,~Passer turning to
13  IBIS|          earth,~they propped his tender head on a hard stone.~Then