Seven long, weary years elapsed between the death of his young wife
and the second and perfect marriage of his maturity. In spite of the
sorrow and depression which had overwhelmed him, he knew that his work
was the basis upon which his life must stand, and in those few years
he planted himself firmly in his professorship, published "Outre Mer,"
and the early poems which won for him an undying reputation as a poet.
During this period, too, he made the great friendships of his life, of
which he allowed no thread to break during the long years to come. His
characteristic steadiness of aim never failed even in this trying
period. He enjoyed the singular advantage of travel in a Europe which
is now chiefly a demesne of the past and of the imagination. Having
known all the picturesqueness and beauty of England, he settled
himself in the old Vassall (or Craigie) House, in Cambridge, with
serene enjoyment and appreciation. This house was then in a retired
spot, and overwrought as he frequently found himself, the repose of
the place was helpful to him. In 1842 he again visited Europe, for the
third time. His health suffered from solitude and the continued
activities of his mind. "I sometimes think," he said, "that no one
with a head and a heart can be perfectly well." Therefore in the
spring he obtained leave of absence for six months, and went abroad to
try the water cure at Marienberg. One of the chief events of this
journey was the beginning of his friendship with Freiligrath. The two
men never met again face to face, but they began a correspondence
which only ended with their lives. It is in one of his letters to
Freiligrath that he writes: "Be true to yourself and burn like a
watch-fire afar off there in your Germany." His mind was full of
poems; much of his future work was projected although little was
completed. He wrote one sonnet called "Mezzo Cammin," never printed
until after his death; perhaps he thought it too expressive of
personal sadness.