There's hay enough on that lower meadow of ours to pay for corn for the hens for quite a spell.
"Fair Harbor" by Joseph Crosby Lincoln
Why, Lucius, we always had the heaviest crops of hay in the parish off that meadow.
"Orley Farm" by Anthony Trollope
The next day the labourers at the farm were busy taking in the hay from a large meadow just beyond the forest.
"The Basket of Flowers" by Christoph von Schmid
The walks and meadows are so fragrant and bright now, the hay half carried, and the short new grass appearing.
"Loss and Gain" by John Henry Newman
Master Meadow Mouse had been much upset when Farmer Green cut the grass in the meadow at haying time.
"The Tale of Master Meadow Mouse" by Arthur Scott Bailey
One day, Mr. Marble and his men were engaged in the meadow, raking hay and carting it into the barn.
"Mike Marble" by Uncle Frank
Meadow-hay 1 10 0 18.
"The Stock-Feeder's Manual" by Charles Alexander Cameron
Beside it he had built a snug log-barn, stored with hay from the wild meadow.
"The Watchers of the Trails" by Charles G. D. Roberts
Tell Russell that a crop of hay is to be got off the meadow this year, before the club use it.
"The Letters of Charles Dickens" by Charles Dickens
Meadow-hay, it will be seen, of all crops removes the least phosphoric acid.
"Manures and the principles of manuring" by Charles Morton Aikman
Or bringing from the meadows,
At set of harvest-day,
The frolic of the blackbirds,
The sweetness of the hay.
"The Changeling ( From The Tent on the Beach )" by John Greenleaf Whittier
A mystery still to men and boys
Who know not where they lay
And guess it but a summer noise
Among the meadow hay
"The Landrail" by John Clare
My verse should breathe the fresh-clipped hedge,
Roses and meadows
And mint and new-mown hay and sedge,
The thunder's bellows.
"In everything I seek to grasp..." by Boris Pasternak
An' O, but the sang comes bonnie,
On a gliff o' the win' up the brae,
An' as sweet as the scent in the meadows
When fowk are teddin' their hay.
"An Old-World Ballad" by Alexander Anderson
From clover-fields and meadows wide,
Where moves the richly-laden wain
To barns well-stored with new-made hay,
Or where the flail at early day
Rolls out the ripened grain:
"Harvest Hymn" by Charles Sangster
On mountains we now shall guest,
When eventide to all brings rest,
In dairy on highland meadow,
On hay-field 'neath slanting shadow,
While to the alphorn's tender tone
Great Nature's voice responds alone.
"Norse Nature" by Bjornstjerne Bjornson