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222
A New England Girlhood, Outlined from Memory (Beverly, MA)
·
Lucy Larcom
112
I
was
perplexed
by
a
good
many
matters
besides.
I
had
learned
to
keep
most
of
my
thoughts
to
myself,
but
I
did
venture
to
ask
about
the
Ressurrection--how
it
was
that
those
who
had
died
and
gone
straight
to
heaven,
and
had
been
singing
there
for
thousands
of
years,
could
have
any
use
for
the
dust
to
which
their
bodies
had
returned.
Were
they
not
already
as
alive
as
they
could
be?
I
found
that
there
were
different
ideas
of
the
resurrection
among
"orthodox"
people,
even
then.
I
was
told
however,
that
this
was
too
deep
a
matter
for
me,
and
so
I
ceased
asking
questions.
But
I
pondered
the
matter
of
death;
what
did
it
mean?
The
Apostle
Paul
gave
me
more
light
on
the
subject
than
any
of
the
ministers
did.
And,
as
usual,
a
poem
helped
me.
It
was
Pope's
Ode,
beginning
with,--
"Vital
spark
of
heavenly
flame,"--
which
I
learned
out
of
a
reading-book.
To
die
was
to
"languish
into
life."
That
was
the
meaning
of
it!
and
I
loved
to
repeat
to
myself
the
words,--
"Hark!
they
whisper:
angels
say,
'Sister
spirit,
come
away!'"
"The
world
recedes;
it
disappears!
Heaven
opens
on
my
eyes!
my
ears
With
sounds
seraphic
ring."
A
hymn
that
I
learned
a
little
later
expressed
to
me
the
same
satisfying
thought:
"For
strangers
into
life
we
come,
And
dying
is
but
going
home."
The
Apostle's
words,
with
which
the
song
of
"The
Dying
Christian
to
his
Soul"
ends,
left
the
whole
cloudy
question
lit
up
with
sunshine,
to
my
childish
thoughts:--
Marker
Marker
Fine marker
White-out
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