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Anne Kingsmill Finch - The Atheist And The Acorn
Work rating: Medium

Methinks this World is oddly made, 
  And ev`ry thing`s amiss, 
A dull presuming Atheist said, 
As stretch`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 descry; 
For, as he upwards gazing lay, 
An Acorn, loosen`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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