 | Snow-berries. A book for young folks |  |
FINE TALK.
They may talk about talk
With a silvery ring,
But silence is sometimes
An excellent thing.
Of course there's no statute
To limit the breath,
And he that so chooses
May talk you to death!
But if you have nothing
To tell or to teach,
There's no use abusing
The good gift of speech!
With a silvery ring,
But silence is sometimes
An excellent thing.
Of course there's no statute
To limit the breath,
And he that so chooses
May talk you to death!
But if you have nothing
To tell or to teach,
There's no use abusing
The good gift of speech!
67
I ve heard tongues that clattered
Like shallowest brooks,
But never the fine talk
You read of in books!
I often hear things
That were tolerably good,
But not your fine, fine talk,—
I wish that I could!
For when words like music
Have ravished the air,
It somehow has happened
I never was there.
Like shallowest brooks,
But never the fine talk
You read of in books!
I often hear things
That were tolerably good,
But not your fine, fine talk,—
I wish that I could!
For when words like music
Have ravished the air,
It somehow has happened
I never was there.
It is, as I fancy,
The fault of my star,
For certainly somewhere
Fine talkers there are;
And sometimes I've thought,
For a minute or two,
Here is one! He was telling me
All that he knew!
For when we next met,
Without switching the train
Of a thought, he repeated
The same things again.
The fault of my star,
For certainly somewhere
Fine talkers there are;
And sometimes I've thought,
For a minute or two,
Here is one! He was telling me
All that he knew!
For when we next met,
Without switching the train
Of a thought, he repeated
The same things again.
And if I might venture
One word to suggest
To the talkers, who brilliantly
Prey on the rest,
I would tell them that no one,
So far as I 've heard,
Likes always to listen
And say not a word;
And that it were wisdom
To ponder my rhyme,
And utter their oracles
One at a time!
One word to suggest
To the talkers, who brilliantly
Prey on the rest,
68
So far as I 've heard,
Likes always to listen
And say not a word;
And that it were wisdom
To ponder my rhyme,
And utter their oracles
One at a time!
| Snow-berries. A book for young folks | |