A Saxon Song
Tools with the comely names, Mattock and scythe and spade, Couth and bitter as flames, Clean, and bowed in the blade,--A man and his tools make a man and his trade. Breadth of the English shires, Hummock and kame and mead, Tang of the reeking byres, Land of the English breed,--A man and his land make a man and his creed. Leisurely flocks and herds, Cool-eyed cattle that come Mildly to wonted words, Swine that in orchards roam,--A man and his beasts make a man and his home. Children sturdy and flaxen Shouting in brotherly strife, Like the land they are Saxon, Sons of a man and his wife,--For a man and his loves make a man and his life.
Victoria Sackville West
Other author posts
Tuscany
Cisterns and stones; the fig-tree in the Casts down her shadow, ashen as her boughs, Across the road, across the thick white dust Down from the hill the slow white oxen crawl,
Making Cider
I saw within the wheelwright’s The big round cartwheels, blue and red; A plough with blunted share; A blue tin jug; a broken chair;
Leopards at Knole
Leopards on the gable-ends, Leopards on the painted stair, Stiff the blazoned shield they bear, Or and gules, a bend of vair,
Trio
So well she knew them both yet as she Into the room, and heard their Of tragic meshes knotted with her name,