You do believe without seeing,
Because of what you do hope in;
But your sweet muse is first in rank,
And like the letters of Mveene your love which are now kept in your box.
Fox, box, Cox, ox, lox, pox;
And like the young boys band!
Kitchen, chicken, itching, pitching, picking, pricking, wicking, knitting;
And like the young girls band!
But you do believe without seeing.
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I would like to translate this poem