Pruning

that use by gradual dint of thought on thought might forge the various arts with furrows help the corn-blade win and strike out hidden fire from the flint's heart then first the streams were ware of hollowed alder holes the sailor then their names and numbers gave to star and star pleiads and hyads and lycaon's child bright arctos how with nooses then was found to catch wild beasts and cozen them with lime and hem with hounds the mighty forest glades soon one with hand-net scourges the broad stream probing its depths one drags his dripping toils along the main then irons unbending might and shrieking saw-blade for the men of old with wedges want to cleave the splintering log then divers arts arose toil conquered all remorseless toil and poverty's shrewd push in times of hardship ceres was the first set mortals on with tools to turn the sod when now the awful groves gen failed to bear acorns and arbutes and her wonted food dodona gave no more soon too the corn-gat sorrows increase that an evil blight ate up the stalks and thistle reared his spines an idler in the fields the crops die down Upsprings instead a shaggy growth of burrs and cow-trops, And amid the corn-fields trim up fruitful darnel, And wild oats have sway.

Wherefore, unless thou shalt with ceaseless rake the weeds pursue, With shouting scare the birds, Prune with thy hook the dark field's matted shade, Pray down the showers, all vainly thou shalt eye alack thy neighbors heaped up harvest mow and in the greenwood from a shaken oak seek solace for thine hunger now to tell the sturdy rustic's weapons what they are without which neither can be sowed nor reared the fruits of harvest first the bent plows share and heavy timber and slow lumbering wains of the eloysinian mother threshing slays and drags and harrows with their crushing weight then the cheap wickerware of celeus old hurdles of arbute and thy mystic fan iacus which full tale long ere the time thou must with heed lay by if thee await not all unearned the country's crown divine while yet within the woods the elm is tamed and bowed with mighty force to form the stalk and take the plough's curved shape then nigh the root a pole eight feet projecting earth boards twain and sharebeam with its double back they fix For yoke is early hewn a linden light, And a tall beach for handle, From behind to turn the car at lowest, Then o'er the hearth the wood they hang Till the smoke knows it well.

Many the precepts of the men of old I can recount

thee,

Oh, okay.

Your roses are really depleted in minerals in the soil, so feed, feed, feed the soil and Prune off the black spot.

You shouldn't have black spot this time of year.

Spray it with a fungicide, a little soft fungicide, and get your organic fertilizer in and not synthetic.