The Mower-Sylvia Lynd

THE MOWER

The rooks travelled home,

The milch cows went lowing,

And down in the meadow

And 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 tasselled grass.


SYLVIA LYND

Summary: 'The Mower' by Sylvia Lynd depicts an elderly man toiling in a meadow. Despite his worn appearance, he works rhythmically, mirroring the movements of nature. The poem captures the essence of his labour, comparing him to rooks and cows, and the flowing meadow becomes a canvas of vibrant flora. The man's tenacity is reflected as he moves tirelessly, akin to the wind through his grassy domain, creating a poignant portrayal of the cyclical nature of life and the enduring spirit within simplicity. 

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