Nuts lie in tones,

    And t-day macaroons

    turn to daily rations!

    Mock I thee, in wishing weal? --

    tears are in my eyes to feel

    t made so straitly,

    Blessing needs must straiten too, --

    Little canst thou joy or do,

    t greatly.

    Yet be blessed to t

    Of all good and all delight

    Pervious to ture;

    Only loved beyond t line,

    it anshine,

    Loving felloure!