SPEECH! Is that all? And, shall an actor found,
An universal fame on partial ground?
Parrots themselves speak properly by rote,
And, in six months, my dog shall howl by note.
I laugh at those who, when the Stage they tread,
Neglect the heart to compliment the head;
With strict propriety, their care's confin'd
To weigh out words, while Passion halts behind.
To Syllable-dissectors they appeal,
Allow them accent, cadence, — Fools may feel;
But, spite of all the criticising elves,
Those who would make us feel, must feel themselves.