Selestial apoley which Didest inspire. the souls of burns and pop with sackred fir. Kast thy Mantil over me When i shal sing, the praiz Of A sweat flower who grows in spring Which has of late kome under the Fokis. of My eyes. It is called a krokis. Sweat lovly prety littil sweat Thing, you bloometh before The lairicks on High sing, thy lefs are neithir Red Nor yelly. but Just betwixt the two you hardy felly.

i fear youl yet be Nippit with the frost. As Maney a one has known to there kost. you should have not kome out in such a hurrey. As this is only the Month of Febrywurrey. and you may expick yet Much bad wethir. when all your blads will krunkil up like Burnt leather. alas. alas. theres Men which tries to rime, who have like you kome out befor there time. The Moril of My peese depend upon it. is good so here i End my odd or sonit.

Anonymous.