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222
A New England Girlhood, Outlined from Memory (Beverly, MA)
·
Lucy Larcom
174
In
looking
over
the
bound
volume
of
this
magazine,
I
am
amused
at
the
grown-up
style
of
thought
assumed
by
myself,
probably
its
very
youngest
contributor.
I
wrote
a
dissertation
on
"Fame,"
quoting
from
Pollok,
Cowper,
and
Milton,
and
ending
with
Diedrich
Knickerbocker's
definition
of
immortal
fame,--"Half
a
page
of
dirty
paper."
For
other
titles
I
had
"Thoughts
on
Beauty;"
"Gentility;"
"Sympathy,"
etc.
And
in
one
longish
poem,
entitled
"My
Childhood"
(written
when
I
was
about
fifteen),
I
find
verses
like
these,
which
would
seem
to
have
come
out
of
a
mature
experience:--
My
childhood!
O
those
pleasant
days,
when
everything
seemed
free,
And
in
the
broad
and
verdant
fields
I
frolicked
merrily;
When
joy
came
to
my
bounding
heart
with
every
wild
bird's
song,
And
Nature's
music
in
my
ears
was
ringing
all
day
long!
And
yet
I
would
not
call
them
back,
those
blessed
times
of
yore,
For
riper
years
are
fraught
with
joys
I
dreamed
not
of
before.
The
labyrinth
of
Science
opes
with
wonders
every
day;
And
friendship
hath
full
many
a
flower
to
cheer
life's
dreary
way.
And
glancing
through
the
pages
of
the
"Lowell
Offering"
a
year
or
two
later,
I
see
that
I
continued
to
dismalize
myself
at
times,
quite
unnecessarily.
The
title
of
one
sting
of
morbid
verses
is
"The
Complaint
of
a
Nobody,"
in
which
I
compare
myself
to
a
weed
growing
up
in
a
garden;
and
the
conclusion
of
it
all
is
this
stanza:--
"When
the
fierce
storms
are
raging,
I
will
not
repine,
Though
I'm
heedlessly
crushed
in
the
strife;
For
surely
't
were
better
oblivion
were
mine
Than
a
worthless,
inglorious
life.
Marker
Marker
Fine marker
White-out
Fine white-out
Circle
Paint
Unmarker
Hand
Scalpel
Dice
Sieve
Purify
Undo
Redo
Start over
