When the land is cultivated entirely by the spade, and no horses
are kept, a cow is kept for read more

When the land is cultivated entirely by the spade, and no horses
are kept, a cow is kept for every three acres of land.

He who owns the soil, owns up to the sky.
[Lat., Cujus est solum, ejus est usque ad coelum.]

He who owns the soil, owns up to the sky.
[Lat., Cujus est solum, ejus est usque ad coelum.]

E'en in mid-harvest, while the jocund swain
Pluck'd from the brittle stalk the golden grain,
Oft have read more

E'en in mid-harvest, while the jocund swain
Pluck'd from the brittle stalk the golden grain,
Oft have I seen the war of winds contend,
And prone on earth th' infuriate storm descend,
Waste far and wide, and by the roots uptorn,
The heavy harvest sweep through ether borne,
As light straw and rapid stubble fly
In dark'ning whirlwinds round the wintry sky.

Second to agriculture, humbug is the biggest industry of our age

Second to agriculture, humbug is the biggest industry of our age

And he gave it for his opinion, "that whoever could make two ears
of corn, or two blades of read more

And he gave it for his opinion, "that whoever could make two ears
of corn, or two blades of grass, to grow upon a spot of ground
where only one grew before, would deserve better of mankind, and
do more essential service to his country, than the whole race of
politicians put together."

He allows very readily, that the eyes and footsteps of the master
are things most salutary to the land.
read more

He allows very readily, that the eyes and footsteps of the master
are things most salutary to the land.
[Lat., Oculos et vestiga domini, res agro saluberrimas, facilius
admittit.]

Look up! the wide extended plain
Is billowy with its ripened grain,
And on the summer winds read more

Look up! the wide extended plain
Is billowy with its ripened grain,
And on the summer winds are rolled
Its waves of emerald and gold.

Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield:
Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke:
How read more

Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield:
Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke:
How jocund did they drive their team a-field!
How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!

Happy he who far from business, like the primitive are of
mortals, cultivates with his own oxen the fields read more

Happy he who far from business, like the primitive are of
mortals, cultivates with his own oxen the fields of his fathers,
free from all anxieties of gain.
[Lat., Beatus ille qui procul negotiis,
Ut prisca gens mortalium,
Paterna rura bobus exercet suis,
Solutus omni faenore.]