THE PEAU DE CHAGRIN OF STATE STREET

How beauteous is the bond

In the manifold array

Of its promises to pay,

While the eight per cent it gives

And the rate at which one lives

Correspond!

But at last the bough is bare

Where the coupons one by one

Through their ripening days have run,

And the bond, a beggar now,

Seeks investment anyhow,

Anywhere!