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.