He laughs not, he frowns not, nor weeps.
The frosts, without cost, starch the ground;
Spread a mirror o’er river and lakes;
While nuts scattered thickly around,
More treasured than apples and cakes,
The children may gather with ease,
With the squirrels which hide in the trees.
The apples are now in the bins,
The pumpkins upon the barn floor,
Save those which, bereft of their skins,