Condense.
The article which now you think
So perfect and complete,
Would doubtless be, if half as long,
For printing twice as meet.
Once and again your thoughts condense,
Then what remains improve;
For matter must be weighty now,
The minds of men to move.
No preface does your piece demand,
No introduction needs;
Select the wheat, but cast aside
The straw, and chaff, and weeds.
How many worse than wasted hours
Are spent foul works to read,
Fictions which poison heart and mind,
And basest passions feed.
Search for some richer gems than these,
Ideas new and rare;
Soon will you learn the good to save,
The valueless to spare.
With heart and mind thus disciplined,
And quickened every sense,
Let these three rules your pen control—
Condense, condense, condense.