Handwritten poem:
'To his mummy, (who is older than he) -

What shall I call thee? Mummy, - Sweetheart mine,
Where shall I find thee?... if in truth I dare
To disinter thee from the desert plain
And carry off thy body to afar.

Where shall I find thee? Burrowing with my hands
Tale[?] deep in the earth, as when they seek to meet
Some prised treasure. Yes, to far off lands
we'll travel now this summer fair my sweet.

Thy home shall be some great museum, framed
With all the splendours art can cast around,
Where thou shalt soon midst wond'ring peoples stand,
Nor think x [?] more to lie in native ground.

Yes come, I know, thou wilt! For well nigh due
Is now another find; since two days past
Have not seen a portrait, and anew
I seek to find another love at last.

I waked last night from dreams of finds, and lo!
Five new tombs have we opened now today,
And sure in one of them, deep down, full low,
Thy smiling face is lying! Come away!

Away dear love to meet and greet the sun,
Which yet thou hast not seen for ages past,
When thou lay down, Europe had scarce begun
To run its course, which thou shalt see at last.

Swift, swift, we'll travel by Northern shore
Dear lady! from the drowsy East fly fast,
Darkness + ignominy are no more,
Thy treasured features now are mine at last.

Hawara

W.m.F.P.
With many apologies to A.B.E.