The sword sang on the barren heath,
The sickle in the fruitful field;
The sword he sung a song of death,
But could not make the sickle yield.
ยท
The sword sang on the barren heath,
The sickle in the fruitful field;
The sword he sung a song of death,
But could not make the sickle yield.
“I suppose that the coat of skins, when first devised, was the cause of such envy that he who first wore it met his death in ambush; and yet after all the pelt was torn in the struggle and completely ruined with much blood so that it could not be made of any use.“
Lucretius | On Nature