Wit

A little wit dropped in a mass of words
Will quickly disappear - indeed, takes color
From all the monumental foolish herds
That keep it company, and so looks duller
Than when displayed alone. Oh, you might think
A gem set off by trash would seem to shine
More brightly, but it tends instead to sink
Down to that level, presenting no sign
Of what might have been called its glory, no
Suggestion of its value. No, it seems
To lose its lustral and delicious glow
So that no passing-by observer deems
It worth consideration. So be witty
But separate your wit, to keep it pretty.