Meads

The Loire rolled its lovely stream through groves, meads, and flowers.

They milked entirely in the meads for coolness and convenience, without driving in the cows.

So all these lands are mine; these yellow meads—These village greens, and forest-fretted hills,With dizzy castles crowned.

The meads were never cheerful except when the servants, of whom there might be some hundreds, were let out to walk.