By the jeering head of an infant oak!
As it arose, and its branches spread,
The Pebble looked up, and, wondering, said,
"Ah, modest Acorn! never to tell
What was enclosed in its simple shell;—
That the pride of the forest was folded up
In the narrow space of its little cup!—
And meekly to sink in the darksome earth,
Which proves that nothing could hide her worth!
And O, how many will tread on me,