Old Winter is coming, to play off his tricks—
To make your ears tingle—your fingers to numb!
So I, with my trowel, new mortar and bricks,
To guard you against him, already am come.
An ounce of prevention in time, I have found,
Is worth pounds of remedy taken too late!
And proof that the sense of my maxim is sound,
Will shine where I fasten stove, furnace or grate.
The Summer leaves now whirling fast from the trees,
By Autumn's chill blast are tossed yellow and sere;