The Pumkin and Acorn.

A Self conceited Country Bumkin Thus made his glosses on a Pumkin. The Fruit, says he, is very big, The Stalk not thicker than a Twig, Scarce any Root, great Leaves; I wonder, Dame Nature should make such a blunder: Had I been she, I would have plac'd it On yon high Oak, and 'twould have grac'd it Better than Acorns; its a whim A little Shrub would do for them; Why should a Tree so tall and fine, Bear small stuff only fit for Swine? But hundred things are made in waste, Which shews the World was fram'd in haste. Had I been sent for in those Days, 'Twould have been managed otherwise: I would have made all of a suit, And large Trees should have had large Fruit. Thus he went on, and in his Eyes, The Simpleton was very wise; A little after, coming nigh An Oak, whose Crown was very high, He liked the Place and down he laid His weary Carcass, in the Shade: But, as the find-fault Animal Turn'd on his Back, an Acorn fell, And hit his Nose a swinging Blow. Good God was this the Pumkin now! The very thought on't struck him dumb: He prais'd his Maker, and went home.

The Moral. The World's vast Fabrick is so well Contrived by its Creator's Skill; There's nothing in't, but what is good To him, by whom its understood; And what opposes Human Sence, Shews but our Pride and Ignorance.