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222
A New England Girlhood, Outlined from Memory (Beverly, MA)
·
Lucy Larcom
161
Often
during
the
many
summers
and
autumns
that
of
late
years
I
have
spent
among
the
New
Hampshire
hills,
sometimes
far
up
the
mountainsides,
where
I
could
listen
to
the
first
song
of
the
little
brooks
setting
out
on
their
journey
to
join
the
very
river
that
flowed
at
my
feet
when
I
was
a
working
girl
on
its
banks,--the
Merrimack,--I
have
felt
as
if
I
could
also
hear
the
early
music
of
my
workmates'
lives,
those
who
were
born
among
these
glorious
summits.
Pure,
strong,
crystalline
natures,
carrying
down
with
them
the
light
of
blue
skies
and
the
freshness
of
free
winds
to
their
place
of
toil,
broadening
and
strengthening
as
they
went
on,
who
can
tell
how
they
have
refreshed
the
world,
how
beautifully
they
have
blended
their
being
with
the
great
ocean
of
results?
A
brook's
life
is
like
the
life
of
a
maiden.
The
rivers
receive
their
strength
from
the
rock-born
hills,
from
the
unfailing
purity
of
the
mountain-streams.
A
girl's
place
in
the
world
is
a
very
strong
one:
it
is
a
pity
that
she
does
not
always
see
it
so.
It
is
strongest
through
her
natural
impulse
to
steady
herself
by
leaning
upon
the
Eternal
Life,
the
only
Reality;
and
her
weakness
comes
also
from
her
inclination
to
lean
against
something,--upon
an
unworthy
support,
rather
than
none
at
all.
She
often
lets
her
life
get
broken
into
fragments
among
the
flimsy
trellises
of
fashion
and
conventionality,
when
it
might
be
a
perfect
thing
in
the
upright
beauty
of
its
own
consecrated
freedom.
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