Good sense will stagnate. Thoughts shut up, want air,
And spoil, like bales unopen’d to the sun.
Had thought been all, sweet speech had been denied;
Speech, thought’s canal! speech, thought’s criterion too!
Thought in the mine, may come forth gold, or dross;
When coin’d in words, we know its real worth. 471
If sterling, store it for thy future use;
’Twill buy thee benefit; perhaps, renown.
Thought, too, deliver’d, is the more possess’d;
Teaching, we learn; and, giving, we retain