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222
A New England Girlhood, Outlined from Memory (Beverly, MA)
·
Lucy Larcom
45
"I
know
his
courts;
I'll
enter
in,
Whatever
may
oppose;"
and
so
I
fancied
there
would
be
lions
in
the
way,
as
there
were
in
the
Pilgrim's,
at
the
"House
Beautiful";
but
I
should
not
be
afraid
of
them;
they
would
no
doubt
be
chained.
The
last
verse
began
with
the
lines,--
"I
can
but
perish
if
I
go:
I
am
resolved
to
try:"
and
my
heart
beat
a
brave
echo
to
the
words,
as
I
started
off
in
fancy
on
a
"Pilgrim's
Progress"
of
my
own,
a
happy
little
dreamer,
telling
nobody
the
secret
of
my
imaginary
journey,
taken
in
sermon-time.
Usually,
the
hymns
for
which
I
cared
most
suggested
Nature
in
some
way,--flowers,
trees,
skies,
and
stars.
When
I
repeated,--
"There
everlasting
spring
abides,
And
never-withering
flowers,"--
I
thought
of
the
faintly
flushed
anemones
and
white
and
blue
violets,
the
dear
little
short-lived
children
of
our
shivering
spring.
They
also
would
surely
be
found
in
that
heavenly
land,
blooming
on
through
the
cloudless,
endless
year.
And
I
seemed
to
smell
the
spiciness
of
bay
berry
and
sweet-fern
and
wild
roses
and
meadow-sweet
that
grew
in
fragrant
jungles
up
and
down
the
hillside
back
of
the
meeting-house,
in
another
verse
which
I
dearly
loved:--
"The
hill
of
Zion
yields
A
thousand
sacred
sweet,
Before
we
reach
the
heavenly
fields,
Or
walk
the
golden
streets."
We
were
allowed
to
take
a
little
nosegay
to
meeting
sometimes:
a
pink
or
two
(pinks
were
pink
then,
not
red,
nor
white,
nor
even
double)
and
a
sprig
of
camomile;
and
their
blended
perfume
still
seems
to
be
a
part
of
the
June
Sabbath
mornings
long
passed
away.
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