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A New England Girlhood, Outlined from Memory (Beverly, MA)
·
Lucy Larcom
186
"They
seemed
like
chariots
of
saints,
By
fiery
coursers
drawn;
as
brightly
hued
As
if
the
glorious,
bushy,
golden
locks
Of
thousand
cherubim
had
been
shorn
off,
And
on
the
temples
hung
of
morn
and
even."
I
liked
better
a
translation
from
the
German,
beginning
"Methinks
it
were
no
pain
to
die
On
such
an
eve,
while
such
a
sky
O'ercanopies
the
west."
And
she
generally
had
to
hear
the
whole
poem,
for
I
was
very
fond
of
it;
though
the
especial
verse
that
I
contrasted
with
hers
was,--
"There's
peace
and
welcome
in
yon
sea
Of
endless
blue
tranquillity;
Those
clouds
are
living
things;
I
trace
their
veins
of
liquid
gold,
And
see
them
silently
unfold
Their
soft
and
fleecy
wings."
Then
she
would
tell
me
that
my
nature
inclined
to
quietness
and
harmony,
while
hers
asked
for
motion
and
splendor.
I
wondered
whether
it
really
were
so.
But
that
huge,
creaking
framework
beside
us
would
continually
intrude
upon
our
meditations
and
break
up
our
discussions,
and
silence
all
poetry
for
us
with
its
dull
prose.
Emilie
found
more
profitable
work
elsewhere,
and
I
found
some
that
was
less
so,
but
far
more
satisfactory,
as
it
would
give
me
the
openings
of
leisure
which
I
craved.
The
paymaster
asked,
when
I
left,
"Going
where
on
can
earn
more
money?"
"No,"
I
answered,
"I
am
going
where
I
can
have
more
time."
"Ah,
yes!"
he
said
sententiously,
"time
is
money."
But
that
was
not
my
thought
about
it.
"Time
is
education,"
I
said
to
myself;
for
that
was
what
I
meant
it
should
be
to
me.
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