For all the fruits that flush the boughs,
When russet autumn decks her brows;
3For the bright sun, whose fervid ray
Ripens the corn, and cheers the day;
For the round moon, whose yellow light
Gilds the long labors of the night;
4For the rich sea of shining grain,
That spreads its waves o'er hill and plain,
For the cool breeze, whose light wings fan
The weary, sun-burnt husbandman;