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Meditations on pulling Mushrooms.
I
What art thou, or from whence, we do not know.You quickly come, and very quickly go,
O beauteous short liv'd Creature!
Thou'rt neither Flesh, Fish, Herb nor Fruit.
Or Insect, who can find thee out?
Thou Miracle of Nature.
II
Art thou the Prophet Jonah's Gourd,Who preach'd in Nineveh the Word?
His Tub was wondrous frail.
If Stipends did as soon decay,
There's Fifty Priests that wou'd not stay,
All their Harrangues would fail.
III
Like ancient Manna with the Sun,You show your Head and then you're gone;
You dare not live a Day.
Only the Grashopper and you,
Pay visits to the Morning Dew,
Then gravely go away.
IV
Thou'rt Object of the Vulgar's Hate,A sav'ry Breakfast to the Great,
Thy Virtues can't be told.
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Thy Body we preserve in Pickle,
As Mummies were of old.
V
When Father Adam did rebel,And from his florid Garden fell,
O happy, happy Plant!
You did not flourish in his Clime,
You did not suffer by his Crime,
And therefore innocent.
VI
Had Eva, e'er she touch'd the Fruit,Seen Mushrooms starting at the Root,
With crimson Gills and snowy Skin,
She would have left the damned Tree,
And bowing low have lifted thee,
And so escap'd the Sin.
VII
The Curse entail'd was, Man should eat.His daily Food with daily Sweat;
But when we purchase you,
We need not wound the Earth with Spade,
We need not tire our Shoulder-Blade,
Or strike the labouring Plow.
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