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.]

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.]

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.

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.

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

The life of the husbandman,--a life led by the bounty of earth
and sweetened by the airs of heaven.

The life of the husbandman,--a life led by the bounty of earth
and sweetened by the airs of heaven.

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,

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.