from Bleak House, chapter XIII, Esther's Narrative (Charles Dickens)

[...] I thought it much to be regretted that Richard's education had not counteracted those influences or directed his character. He had been eight years at a public school and had learnt, I understood, to make Latin verses of several sorts in the most admirable manner. But I never heard that it had been anybody's business to find out what his natural bent was, or where his failings lay, or to adapt any kind of knowledge to HIM. HE had been adapted to the verses and had learnt the art of making them to such perfection that if he had remained at school until he was of age, I suppose he could only have gone on making them over and over again unless he had enlarged his education by forgetting how to do it. Still, although I had no doubt that they were very beautiful, and very improving, and very sufficient for a great many purposes of life, and always remembered all through life, I did doubt whether Richard would not have profited by some one studying him a little, instead of his studying them quite so much. 

To be sure, I knew nothing of the subject and do not even now know whether the young gentlemen of classic Rome or Greece made verses to the same extent - or whether the young gentlemen of any country ever did.

Spring Song, or, The Poet in Difficulties (A.P. Herbert)

I must not say, "The day is fine and hot."
That is complacency: so I will not.

I must not say, "The day is cold and wet."
That is despondency - more deadly yet.

I must not say, "The sky is grey and solemn."
That is defeatist - and perhaps Fifth Column.

And, if from every comment I refrain,
That's dangerous apathy, and wrong again.

I must not say, "There may be storms ahead."
That is a rumour, and must not be spread.

And then, I must not give our enemies
The smallest hint of what the weather is.

Nor should I say what flowers (if any) grow,
For any trifle may assist the foe.

So, with all proper reticence, I sing
That, by the date, I think it must be Spring.