The Poetical Works of Miss Susanna Blamire (1842) - Gredos ...

The Salamanca Corpus: The Poetical Works of Miss Susanna Blamire (1842)
But not till first a fencing hedge surrounds
Their future fields, and the enclosure bounds;
For many a father owns a hatchet here,
Which falls descending to his wealthy heir.
The playful kid we from the pitfall bring,
Overspread with earth, and many a tempting thing;
Light lay the branches o’er the treacherous deep,
And favourite herbs among the long grass creep.
The little prisoner soon is taught to stand,
And crop the food from the betrayer s hand.
[23] .
A winter-store now rose up to their view,
And in another field the clover grew;
But, without scythes or hooks, how could we lay
The ridgy swathe and turn it into hay;
At last, of stone we form’d a sort of spade,
Broad at the end, and sharp, for cutting made;
We push’d along, the tender grass gave way,
And soon the sun turnd every pile to hay.
It was not long before the flocks increased,
And I first gave the unknown milky feast.
Some clay I found, and useful bowls I made, Tho’,
I must own, I marr d the potter’s trade;
Yet use is every thing—they did the same
As if from China the rude vessels came.
The curdling cheese I taught them next to press;
And twirl’d on strings the roasting meat to dress.
In all the woods the Indian corn was found,
Whose grains I scatter d in the faithful ground;
The willing soil leaves little here to do,
Or asks the furrows of the searching plough;
Yet something like one with delight I made,
For tedious are the labours of the spade,
The coulter and the sock were pointed stone,
The eager brothers drew the traces on,
I stalk’d behind, and threw the faithful grain,
And wooden harrows closed the earth again:
Soon sprung the seed, and soon ‘twas in the ear.
Nor wait the golden sheaves the falling year;
In this vast clime two harvests load the field,
And fifty crops th’ exhaustless soil can yield.