Sixty years ago, more or less, a North Carolina editor provided a text for today’s meditation. The editor was William Polk of the Greensboro News & Record. He died in 1955, but he left behind some sound advice.

“No self-respecting bee,” he observed, “ever sat down without leaving a sting.”

His aphorism was directed at editorial writers, who need all the advice they can get. It may not be of much use to biographers, a long-winded bunch. For writers who deal in speeches, sonnets, sermons and pieces under a thousand words, it provides useful counsel. Let me pursue the theme.

The first rule of the short piece is to begin with a lead that hooks the reader. I know that some whippersnappers spell it “lede,” instead of “lead,” but I was weaned on the “lead” that rhymes with mead, plead and knead. No matter. The second movement of a short piece develops a theme. Then comes the coda – the cracker, kicker or sting. Masters of the literary sonatina have a particular trick. It is to end with a long vowel (sly/try), a diphthong (loud/cloud), or a glottal stop (cop, drop).

That’s what we’re talking about today – the sting that is left when the bee sits down. For good and awful examples, let us go to the editorial columns of The New York Times. Many of its editorials end with the nice conclusive wallop of a closing door:

• In an editorial on certain “soft” threats to national security: “They can pose a greater worldwide danger than anything that comes from the barrel of a gun.”

• In an editorial on police recruitment: “The department can build the minority part of its work force and begin to replace scores of officers who are calling it quits.”

• In an editorial commending the candidacy of Sen. John Edwards on the Kerry ticket: “He makes an excellent prospect for a running mate.”

• In an editorial on a presidential overture: “If Mr. Bush intends to make Latin America the centerpiece of his foreign policy, reinforcing relations with Mexico is the right way to start.”

Note the final words: gun, quits, mate, start. Now consider other examples from the good gray Times:

• “In setting a sound legal standard, Justice Scalia and his colleagues have given basic privacy rights important protections against the misuse of high technology.”

• Ending an editorial on defense spending: “It will now be up to Congress to press for more forward-looking budgeting.”

• Ending an editorial on the downfall of Enron: “Andersen’s failure to question the appropriateness of Enron’s dealings with off-the-books partnerships run by its own officers should figure prominently in the Justice Department’s and Security and Exchange Commission’s investigations.”

Did these doors slam? We ended on technology, budgeting, investigations. Such “last words” have no bang, no pop, no sting. Like damp ladyfingers, they fizzle, they sputter, they sigh. The reader senses that the door hasn’t closed.

Mind you, all our little dog tricks of euphony can be overworked. Content will always count for more than cadence, but a resonant last word is important. In an editorial 15 months ago, the Times denounced Bush for embracing unilateralism. This was the last sentence: “Compounding that error could leave America increasingly alone and increasingly endangered.” Very well. But a little tinkering would have given us an America “increasingly endangered, and increasingly alone.” Try it on your own piano.

James Kilpatrick is a syndicated columnist.

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