And ears that are golden as golden can be.
Enrobed in a garment of crimson and brown,
A garland of goldenrod forming her crown,
In the mystic delight of the autumn she stands,
And showers her gifts o'er the pessimist's lands;
While he from his orchard-land turns in disgust,
Saying, "Labor avails me but dust, mould, and rust;
The winter comes on altogether too fast,
The corn that's unhusked will be caught in the blast;
My bills, they increase, while my business is slow;