What boots it, thy virtue, <br />What profit thy parts, <br />While one thing thou lackest, <br />The art of all arts! <br />The only credentials, <br />Passport to success, <br />Opens castle and parlor,— <br />Address, man, Address. <br /> <br />The maiden in danger <br />Was saved by the swain, <br />His stout arm restored her <br />To Broadway again: <br /> <br />The maid would reward him,— <br />Gay company come,— <br />They laugh, she laughs with them, <br />He is moonstruck and dumb. <br /> <br />This clenches the bargain, <br />Sails out of the bay, <br />Gets the vote in the Senate, <br />Spite of Webster and Clay; <br /> <br />Has for genius no mercy, <br />For speeches no heed,— <br />It lurks in the eyebeam, <br />It leaps to its deed. <br /> <br />Church, tavern, and market, <br />Bed and board it will sway; <br />It has no to-morrow, <br />It ends with to-day.<br /><br />Ralph Waldo Emerson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/tact/
