Part 31

Trust me, the worth of words is such They guard all noble things, And that this rash irreverent touch Has jarred some golden strings.

For what the lips have lightly said The heart will lightly hold, And things on which we daily tread Are lightly bought and sold.

The sun of every day will bleach The costliest purple hue. And so our common daily speech Discolours what was true.

But as you keep some thoughts apart In sacred honoured care, If in the silence of your heart, Their utterance too be rare;

Then, while a thousand words repeat Unmeaning clamours all, Melodious golden echoes sweet Shall answer when you call.