Pithy

Pithy verses, crisp as winter air,
A flash of wit, a sharp‑edged glare,
In fewest words the truth is spun—
A jest, a truth, a thought, a pun.

Each line a stone, each phrase a seed,
Planted fast where minds exceed;
Britain’s tongue, with colour, humour, grace,
Finds power in a modest space.

So let us speak, though brief our speech,
Reach the heart, the mind, the beach—
Where brevity is not a lack,
But wisdom’s most compact attack.