Four legs, big ears. Carries load, no fears. Called stubborn all day, Still works without pay. Who am I ?

The trees stand bare for many weeks, Then quietly change their clothes. No tailor comes to help them dress, yet every branch soon knows.

In the meadow, a gentle gait, not a gallop, not a stroll. Like a dance on tiptoes, it’s a pace that warms the soul.

No legs, but loves to float, Can wear a sail, a motor but will not gloat. Dances on the waves of the ocean blue And can carry a captain and maybe a crew

When autumn leaves come tumbling down, I gather them from all around. I pull them into piles with care, until the yard is clean and bare.