And spoil, like bales unopen’d to the sun.

Had thought been all, sweet speech had been deny’d;

Speech, thought’s canal! Speech, thought’s criterion too.

Thought, in the mine, may come forth gold or dross;

When coin’d in word, we know its real worth:

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

The births of intellect: when dumb, forgot.