A Poem A Day by Romilly Wilde

Swishing, stripping, slashing,

slowly he goes mowing,

scythe-blade lashing lithely,

lethally beneath him.

Gallant flowers are falling,

fate betrays the daisies.

Iron edge is tireless;

under him, earth thunders.

…

Slashing, stripping, swashing,

sweeping, he goes reaping,

scythe is swishing blithely.

Slow, behind the mower,

walks a woman raking —

watch your distance, mistress!

not too near me, darling —

near my vicious whishing!

From A Poem A Day: United Kingdom, Ireland & Continental Islands