No profits are returned—puzzles the pocket,
And makes us rather keep those shin-plasters we have,
Than fly to dollars that we know not of;
Thus interest does make converts of us all,
And thus my resolution to leave New York
Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought;
And though my speech is not quite pithy at this moment,
As on the East River’s current I do turn away,
Your kindness I’ll remember, till I lose the name of Finn.
Henry J. Finn.