If all that we say in a single day, with never a word left out,
Were printed each night, in clear black and white, it would make strange reading no doubt,
And then just suppose, ere our eyes close, we must read the whole record through,
Then wouldn't we sigh, and wouldn't we try, a great deal less talking to do,
And I more than half think, that many a kink would be smoother in life's tangled thread,
If half that I say in a single day, were to be left forever unsaid.
