Autumn succeeds, in flaming Yellow clad,
With Fullness smiling and with Plenty glad.
Laden with sunny Fruits of ev'ry Kind,
He dar'd the Cold that waited close behind.
​A Wreath of ripen'd Corn his Temples bound,
Enrich'd with Leaves and clust'ring Grapes around.
An Harvest Crook employ'd his better Hand,
To reap the Grain and ease the burden'd Land.