The beefarm on her sloping meadows, the sweet / Exacting spaces spinning honey; / Under the elms and the sycamores / The light leaves cherish many flowers, / The light air under the boughs threaded / With the vivid bees who return
For generations farmers had argued that tied cottages were a perk and necessary to keep good workers, yet the reality for literally thousands was very different.
The main idea generates other ideas, which follow in natural order: He hated to go home because he knew he would have to face his nagging wife and a deskful of unpaid bills and his unruly children.
[…] great chambers in the rock where all sorts of plants were growing, under windows which had been cut to let in the sun, and glazed to adjust his warmth, and where runnels of water ran between fruit trees and seedlings, pumpkin plants and herbs.
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