TO A LADY WHO WENT INTO THE COUNTRY IN APRIL. Susanna Blamire Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. Blamire, Susanna, 1747-1794. The Poetical Works of Miss Susanna Blamire “The muse of Cumberland.” Now for the first time collected by Henry Lonsdale, M.D. with a preface, memoir, and notes by Patrick Maxwell, ... Edinburgh John Menzies, 61 Princes Street; R. Tyas, London; D. Robertson, Glasgow; and C. Thurnam, Carlisle. MDCCCXLII. 1842 pp. 90-91.

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TO A LADY WHO WENT INTO THE COUNTRY IN APRIL . GO , sweet companion of the Spring , Go , plume the little songster's wing ; And , when it steals from every eye , Place thou the downy feather nigh ; The softest moss be sure to lay Within the little builder's way ; Assist in deep domestic toil , And many a labouring hour beguile ; Avert from hence unhallow'd feet , And guard like Peace the lone retreat : Whether in tangling brake conceal'd , Or yellow broom , too much reveal'd , In antique thorn , or rocky cell , On waving spray , or mossy dell , Midst social woods , or lonely tree , Or where the household else shall be . So may the snowdrop raise her head , So may the primrose leave her bed ; So may the breeze refreshment bring To every daughter of the Spring ; So may the cowslip walk the mead , And daisies , wondering at their speed , With haste their flowery carpet spread Where'er the wandering foot shall tread , While the light heart some charm shall see In every meadow , hill , and tree , Nor yet a shadow cross the lawn That's not by her bright pencil drawn . But , ah ! while Nature courts your eye , — While genial beams flit o'er the sky ; Though pleas'd to view the shifting scene , From rage-ting'd red , to blue serene ; Remember that a friend may sigh , And the round tear bedim the eye ; That absence throws a deeper shade Than ever darken'd through the glade ; And that , when heart-lov'd friends appear , Not all the changes of the year — Not all the blossoms of the rose — Nor all the sweets that Summer throws , Such joy , such life , the heart can lend , As the return of that dear Friend !