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Ill husbandry braggeth
To go with the best:
Good husbandry baggeth
Up gold in read more
Ill husbandry braggeth
To go with the best:
Good husbandry baggeth
Up gold in his chest.
- Thomas Tusser,
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.
Where grows?--where grows it not? If vain our toil,
We ought to blame the culture, not the soil.
Where grows?--where grows it not? If vain our toil,
We ought to blame the culture, not the soil.
In ancient times, the sacred Plough employ'd
The Kings and awful Fathers of mankind:
And some, with read more
In ancient times, the sacred Plough employ'd
The Kings and awful Fathers of mankind:
And some, with whom compared your insect-tribes
Are but the beings of a summer's day,
Have held the Scale of Empire, ruled the Storm
Of mighty War; then, with victorious hand,
Disdaining little delicacies, seized
The Plough, and, greatly independent, scorned
All the vile stores corruption can bestow.
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.]
Adam, well may we labour, still to dress
This garden, still to tend plant, herb, and flower.
Adam, well may we labour, still to dress
This garden, still to tend plant, herb, and flower.
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.]
Our rural ancestors with little blest,
Patient of labour when the end was rest,
Indulg'd the day read more
Our rural ancestors with little blest,
Patient of labour when the end was rest,
Indulg'd the day that hous'd their annual grain,
With feasts, and off'rings, and a thankful strain.
