Book IX: The Acorn and the Pumpkin

God's works are good. This truth to proveAround the world I need not move;I do it by the nearest pumpkin.'This fruit so large, on vine so small,'Surveying once, exclaim'd a bumpkin--'What could He mean who made us all?He's left this pumpkin out of place.If I had order'd in the case,Upon that oak it should have hung--A noble fruit as ever swungTo grace a tree so firm and strong.Indeed, it was a great mistake,As this discovery teaches,That I myself did not partakeHis counsels whom my curate preaches.All things had then in order come;This acorn, for example,Not bigger than my thumb,Had not disgraced a tree so ample.The more I think, the more I wonderTo see outraged proportion's laws,And that without the slightest cause;God surely made an awkward blunder.'With such reflections proudly fraught,Our sage grew tired of mighty thought,And threw himself on Nature's lap,Beneath an oak,--to take his nap.Plump on his nose, by lucky hap,An acorn fell: he waked, and inThe matted beard that graced his chin,He found the cause of such a bruiseAs made him different language use.'O! O!' he cried; 'I bleed! I bleed!And this is what has done the deed!But, truly, what had been my fate,Had this had half a pumpkin's weight!I see that God had reasons good,And all his works well understood.'Thus home he went in humbler mood.