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He might attack ad libitum.

"Ha!" said the young one, "where's this vine—

Let's see this fruit you think so fine."

"Come then, my child, your fortune's great, you

Can't conceive what feasts await you!"

He said, and gliding through the air

They reached a vine, and halted there.

Soon as the grapes the youngster spied,

"Is this the fruit you praise?" he cried:

"Why, an old bird, Sir, as you are.

Should judge, I think, more wisely far

Than to admire, or hold as good.

Such half-grown, small, and worthless food.

Come, see a fruit which I possess

In yonder garden; you'll confess.

When you behold it, that it is

Bigger and better far than this."

"I'll go," he said; "but ere I see

This fruit of yours, whate'er it be,

I'm sure it is not worth a stone.

Or grape-skin from my vines alone."

They reached the spot the Thrushlet named,

And he triumphantly exclaimed—

"Show me the fruit to equal mine!

A size so great—a shape so fine;

What luxury, however rare,—

Can e'en your grapes with this compare?"

The old bird stared, as well he might,

For lo! a pumpkin met his sight!