Far, far away, beyond a hazy height,
  The turquoise skies are hung in dreamy sleep;
Below, the fields of cotton, fleecy-white,
  Are spreading like a mighty flock of sheep.

Now, like Aladdin of the days of old,
  October robes the weeds in purple gowns;
He Sprinkles all the sterile fields with gold,
  And all the rustic trees wear...