where ideas fail, A word comes opportunely into play Most admirable
weapons words are found, On words a system we securely ground, In words
we can conveniently believe, Nor of a single jot can we a word bereave.
Your pardon for my importunity; Yet once more must I trouble you: On
medicine, I'll thank you to supply A pregnant utterance or two! Three years!
how brief the appointed tide! The field, heaven knows, is all too wide! If but a
friendly hint be thrown, 'Tis easier then to feel one's way.
I'm weary of the dry pedantic tone, And must again the genuine devil play.