The Mower: Sylvia Lynd

The rooks travelled home,

The milch cows went lowing,

And down in the meadow

An old man was mowing.

His shirt rank with sweat,

His neck stained with grime;

But he moved like the cadence

And sweetness of rhyme.

He moved like the heavy-winged

Rooks, the slow cows,

He moved like the vane

On the roof of the house.

The foam of the daisies

Was spread like a sea,

The spikes of red sorrel

Came up past his knee.

The sorrel, the clover,

The buttercups gold-

A man that was dirty

And twisted and old-

But again and again

Like an eddy he was,

He moved like the wind

In his own tasseled grass.

Summary: ‘The Mower’ is a beautiful poem by Sylvia Lynd. In this poem, the poet says about a mower who is a hard-working person. He works from dawn to dusk without any break or rest. She compares the movement of a mower with the vane of a house. Every day the mower works on, his shirt ranks with sweat, his neck get stained with grime but still he works on. The foam of the daisies spread as a sea and the spikes of red sorrel come up to his knee, he still works on. He becomes dirty but still he works on like an eddy. And the poet thinks that mowing is a good job. We should respect the job of the mower.