Her treasures, moist with the night’s dew,
Before she buried them from view [[23]]
In corn-sacks of sufficient size;
Then didst thou sue with tearful eyes,
Saying, “Alas! This deadly breeze
Pursues me everywhere; I freeze
With hunger; let me fill (no more!)
My wallet from that copious store;
Next year, when melons are full-blown,
Be sure I shall repay the loan!