POETRY.

THE PHILOSOPHER'S ATOM.

WIIEN ask we, " What is it? and whence did it come ?"

No answer is given ; our science is dumb.

Yet, bold in their dogma, nor bolder than blind, Some crown it creator of matter and mind.

These sages assure us the Atom's the cause And ruler supreme of all natural laws.

The thinker may think that he thinks, but it's plain 'Tis merely the Atom exciting his brain, Transmitting ideas through tissue and nerve, As if it were working some purpose to serve.

Yet, facing us always, this marvel we've got :- The Thinker is conscious, the Atom is not.

The puppet examines itself and admires ; The wire-puller knows not the trick of the wires.

This paradox funny unquestioned must go ; For science asserts it, and "science must know."

And therefore forsake we the Ruler whose eye The secretest action or purpose can spy, And worship the Atom, who cares not a jot What virtues we practise or wickedness plot. We may trample the decalogue under our heel, We may murder, or libel, or covet, or steal, Yet sleep with a conscience as calm and composed As though the most virtuous work we had closed.

'Twould be folly to feel any sorrow or shame, Since our dear little Atom bears ever the blame.

'Tis the Atom that steals ; 'tis the Atom that slays ; 'Tis the Atom that slanders, and dupes, and betrays ;

'Tis the Atom, in short, that must answer for all,

While we, driven helpless, do nothing at all.

Oh, wonderful doctrine ! How soothing and sweet To the would-be assassin, seducer, or cheat, Who conscience and scruples far flinging away, Determines the Atom alone to obey.

But what about him who, though poor and distressed, 'Mid troubles and trials is striving his best, In steadfast reliance on aid from above, Himself to forget and his neighbour to love ?

To hint our philosophers surely might leave The one single comfort he here can receive : Through his darkness and gloom pierces one sunny ray : Is it human, the heart that would take this away ?

Htnii MACCOLL..