THE ATHEIST AND THE ACORN
Anne Finch, Countess of Winchilsea
1661 - 1720
MEthinks the World is oddly made,
And ev'ry thing's amiss,
A dull presuming Atheist said,
As strech'd he lay beneath a Shade;
And instanced in this:
Behold, quoth he, that mighty thing,
A Pumpkin, large and round,
Is held but by a little string,
Which upwards cannot make it spring,
Or bear it from the Ground.
Whilst on this Oak, a Fruit so small,
So disproportion'd grows;
That, who with Sence surveys this All,
This universal Casual Ball,
Its ill Contrivance knows.
My better Judgment wou'd have hung
That Weight upon a Tree,
And left this Mast, thus slightly strung,
'mongst things which on the Surface sprung,
And small and feeble be.
No more the Caviller cou'd say,
Nor farther Faults decry;
For, as he upwards gazing lay,
An Acorn, loosn'd from the Stay,
Fell down upon his Eye.
Th' offended Part with Tears ran o'er,
As punish'd for the Sin:
Fool ! had that Bough a Pumpkin bore,
Thy Whimseys must have work'd no more,
Nor Scull had kept them in.
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