ghizela rowe - anne kingsmill finch - the atheist and the acorn lyrics
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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