THE FLOATING STRAW.

A THOUGHT IN COMMERCIAL PANIC.

I.

THE wild waves are my nightly pillows,
Beneath me roll the Atlantic billows;
And as I rest on my couch of brine,
I watch the eternal planets shine.
Ever I ride

On a harmless tide,

Fearing nought-enjoying all things-
Undisturb'd by great or small things.

II.

Alas! for the lordly vessel

That sails so gallantly!

The winds may dash it,

The storms may wash it,

The lightnings rend its tall masts three;

But neither the wind, nor the rain, nor the sea,

Can injure me--can injure me!

The lightnings cannot strike me down,
Whirlwinds wreck, or whirlpools drown;
And the ship to be lost ere the break of Morn,
May pass o'er my head in saucy scorn;
And when the Night unveils its face,
I may float, unharm'd, in my usual place,
And the ship may show to the pitying stars
No remnant but her broken spars.

TRUE thoughts, your days of grief are done,
No more shall scorn or hate impede you ;-
Born in the light, where'er the sun
Shines on mankind, mankind shall heed you.
So grow, ye grains of mustard-seed,
Grow each into a tree;

And kindle, sparks, to beal-fires bright,
That all the earth may see;

And spread, ye thoughts of Truth and Right,
O'er all humanity!

Time was, when thoughts bore tears and death
To the wise few that dared to raise them;
Time is, when thoughts are living breath,
And the world's throbbing heart obeys them.
So grow, ye grains of mustard-seed,
Grow each into a tree;

And kindle, sparks, to beal-fires bright,
That all the earth may see;

And spread, ye workers for the Right,
Onwards eternally!