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Agriculture is best, enterprise is acceptable, but avoid being on a fixed wage.
Agriculture is best, enterprise is acceptable, but avoid being on a fixed wage.
The diligent farmer plants trees, of which he himself will never
see the fruit.
[Lat., Abores serit diligens read more
The diligent farmer plants trees, of which he himself will never
see the fruit.
[Lat., Abores serit diligens agricola, quarum adspiciet baccam
ipse numquam.]
Ye rigid Ploughman! bear in mind
Your labor is for future hours.
Advance! spare not! nor look read more
Ye rigid Ploughman! bear in mind
Your labor is for future hours.
Advance! spare not! nor look behind!
Plough deep and straight with all your powers!
Here Ceres' gifts in waving prospect stand,
And nodding tempt the joyful reaper's hand.
Here Ceres' gifts in waving prospect stand,
And nodding tempt the joyful reaper's hand.
The first farmer was the first man, and all historic nobility
rests on possession and use of land.
The first farmer was the first man, and all historic nobility
rests on possession and use of land.
Second to agriculture, humbug is the biggest industry of our age
Second to agriculture, humbug is the biggest industry of our age
With the introduction of agriculture mankind entered upon a long period of meanness, misery, and madness, from which they are read more
With the introduction of agriculture mankind entered upon a long period of meanness, misery, and madness, from which they are only now being freed by the beneficent operation of the machine.
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.
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.