Fair is the kingcup that in meadow blows, Fair is the daisy that beside her grows.
To shoot at crows is powder flung away.
Envy's a sharper spur than pay.
If the heart of a man is depressed with cares, The mist is dispelled when a woman appears.
When if or chance or hunger's powerful sway Directs the roving trout this fatal way, He greedily sucks in the twining bait, And tugs and nibbles the fallacious meat. Now, happy fisherman; now twitch the line! How thy rod bends! behold, the prize is thine!
Who talks much, must talk in vain.