Our fathers used to say that the master's eye was the best
fertilizer.
[Lat., Majores fertilissium is agro read more

Our fathers used to say that the master's eye was the best
fertilizer.
[Lat., Majores fertilissium is agro oculum domini esse dixerunt.]

He was a very inferior farmer when he first begun . . . and he is
now fast rising read more

He was a very inferior farmer when he first begun . . . and he is
now fast rising from affluence to poverty.

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.]

A field becomes exhausted by constant tillage.
[Lat., Continua messe senescit ager.]

A field becomes exhausted by constant tillage.
[Lat., Continua messe senescit ager.]

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.]

Three acres and a cow.

Three acres and a cow.

Agriculture not only gives riches to a nation, but the only riches she can call her own

Agriculture not only gives riches to a nation, but the only riches she can call her own

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.