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222
A New England Girlhood, Outlined from Memory (Beverly, MA)
·
Lucy Larcom
175
Now
I
do
not
suppose
that
I
really
considered
myself
a
weed,
though
I
did
sometimes
fancy
that
a
different
kind
of
cultivation
would
tend
to
make
me
a
more
useful
plant.
I
am
glad
to
remember
that
these
discontented
fits
were
only
occasional,
for
certainly
they
were
unreasonable.
I
was
not
unhappy;
this
was
an
affectation
of
unhappiness;
and
half
conscious
that
it
was,
I
hid
it
behind
a
different
signature
from
my
usual
one.
How
truly
Wordsworth
describes
this
phase
of
undeveloped
feeling:--
"In
youth
sad
fancies
we
affect,
In
luxury
of
disrespect
To
our
own
prodigal
excess
Of
too
familiar
happiness."
It
is
a
very
youthful
weakness
to
exaggerate
passing
moods
into
deep
experiences,
and
if
we
put
them
down
on
paper,
we
get
a
fine
opportunity
of
laughing
at
ourselves,
if
we
live
to
outgrow
them,
as
most
of
us
do.
I
think
I
must
have
had
a
frequent
fancy
that
I
was
not
long
for
this
world.
Perhaps
I
thought
an
early
death
rather
picturesque;
many
young
people
do.
There
is
a
certain
kind
of
poetry
that
fosters
this
idea;
that
delights
in
imaginary
youthful
victims,
and
has,
reciprocally,
its
youthful
devotees.
One
of
my
blank
verse
poems
in
the
"Offering"
is
entitled
"The
Early
Doomed."
It
begins,--
And
must
I
die?
The
world
is
bright
to
me,
And
everything
that
looks
upon
me,
smiles.
Another
poem
is
headed
"Memento
Mori;"
and
another,
entitled
a
"Song
in
June,"
which
ought
to
be
cheerful,
goes
off
into
the
doleful
request
to
somebody,
or
anybody,
to
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