Sil I comper thi to a sumer dey?
Thu it mor luvly an mor temperit.
Ruff winds do sake the derling bods of Mey,
An sumer lese have al to shirt a daet.
Sumetim to ot the iye of hevun shane,
An ofun is is goled compecshun dimd;
An evry fer frum fer sumtime decliens,
By chans, or nachers chanjing corse, untrimd;
But tehy etirnal sumer shil not faed,
Or loose poseshunn of tha fer tho owt,
An shul det barge thu wanest in is shed,
Win in iternul lens to Tiem thu growd.
Slong asmen cun breade, er iys can sei,
Slong life thi, an thi gis lief tu thi.

Wihlem Chakpers