Spades take up leaves br No better than spoons, br And bags full of leaves br Are light as balloons. br br I make a great noise br Of rustling all day br Like rabbit and deer br Running away. br br But the mountains I raise br Elude my embrace, br Flowing over my arms br And into my face. br br I may load and unload br Again and again br Till I fill the whole shed, br And what have I then? br br Next to nothing for weight, br And since they grew duller br From contact with earth, br Next to nothing for color. br br Next to nothing for use.