seized her—a state of mind the most frank, affectionate and enjoying—self-relying, but equally willing to share in the simple amusements that might be presented, or to employ its own resources for the entertainment of others.
A letter which must have been written towards the close of 1820, while L. E. L. was yet in Gloucestershire, will serve to show how early she was accustomed to give her thoughts the gloomiest and most unreal colouring when finding expression in verse. It is addressed to her mother.
"At present," she says, "all I have to say is, that I do so long to see you all, that I like my aunt more and more, that nothing can be pleasanter than my visit to Castle-end, and that I only wish you were in as agreeable a place. I have but one cause of complaint—I so seldom hear from any of you. As for my cousin, if I did not know her too well, I should take it for granted she had forgotten me. You cannot think how delightful a letter is—it makes me quite happy for three days. The following lines I wrote last night—I send them, as they are addressed to you.
'I will not say, I fear your absent one
Will be forgotten, but you cannot feel
The sickening thoughts that o'er the spirit steal
When I remember I am quite alone.
That all I love most fondly, all are gone.
To you that deepest sorrow is unknown;
Some very dear ones are beside you now;
But cold to me each smile that meets my own;
It does not beam upon some long-loved brow.
'Tis vain to tell me we again shall meet,
That thought but makes the weary hours depart
More slowly; hope is tedious to the heart
When we so oft its accents must repeat.
Absence is to affection, as the hour
Of winter's chilling blight upon the spring's young flower.'
