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.
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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.
A field becomes exhausted by constant tillage.
[Lat., Continua messe senescit ager.]
A field becomes exhausted by constant tillage.
[Lat., Continua messe senescit ager.]
Earth is here so kind, that just tickle her with a hoe and she
laughs with a harvest.
Earth is here so kind, that just tickle her with a hoe and she
laughs with a harvest.
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.
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.
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.
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.]
"Ten acres and a mule."
"Ten acres and a mule."
