Samuel Butler

Like men condemned to thunderbolts,
Who, ere the blow, become mere dolts.

Like men condemned to thunderbolts,
Who, ere the blow, become mere dolts.

For rhyme the rudder is of verses,
With which, like ships, they steer their courses.

For rhyme the rudder is of verses,
With which, like ships, they steer their courses.

Have always been at daggers-drawing,
And one another clapper-clawing.

Have always been at daggers-drawing,
And one another clapper-clawing.

The oyster-women lock'd their fish up,
And trudged away to cry, No Bishop.

The oyster-women lock'd their fish up,
And trudged away to cry, No Bishop.

Silence is not always tact, and it is tact that is golden, not silence.

Silence is not always tact, and it is tact that is golden, not silence.