A lady to her lover,

  A father to his son-

It makes young hearts hover

  And frees the old to run.

Not a sword but a pen

  With a stroke swift and sure

Wins wars and conquers men

  And delights the minds of the pure.

The imagination leaps and bounds

  O'er fields and streams and woods;

Appetites are whetted or found

  Once they meet their literary food.

The words of the Wise

  Doeth indeed good like a medicine.

But where evil verbiage lies-

  There words are but a dead limb.

Sticks and stones to be sure,

 But also daggers and swords

Is the langauge that alluers 

  And is naught but actionless words.

Take heed then to what you say:

  Do not flatter, tease, or flaunt.

Every idle word will be paid,

  But good speech shall nothing want.