Transcribed below. The typewriter is a Royal Companion from 1956.

If I could type a million lines for you,
I wouldn’t have a sweeter song to sing.
You’d tell me, if you ever read them through,
That all of them just said the same old thing.
And doubtless you would be correct. To bring
A new expression to the same old thought,
To make the hoary old cliches take wing
And fly, demands a genius I have not.
And yet, although perhaps I haven’t got
A talent that will win eternal fame,
Since true poetic genius can’t be bought,
I keep repeating phrases just the same.
I know you wouldn’t want me to keep mum,
So you must take my sonnets as they come.