Classic Poem

'Tis but by way of Simile. Prior .

Dear Madam, did you never gaze,
Thro' Optic-glass, on rotten Cheese?
There, Madam, did you ne'er perceive
A Crowd of dwarfish Creatures live?
The little Things, elate with Pride,
Strut to and fro, from Side to Side:
In tiny Pomp, and pertly vain,
Lords of their pleasing Orb, they reign;
And, fill'd with harden'd Curds and Cream,
Think the whole Dairy made for them .

So Men, conceited Lords of all,
Walk proudly o'er this pendent Ball,
Fond of their little Spot below,
Nor greater Beings care to know;
But think, those Worlds , which deck the Skies,
Were only form'd to please their Eyes.