DERRY, N.H. — It was easier to be idealistic eight years ago.

Barack Obama made it effortless for such voters as Lenore Child, an art teacher from Derry. During his first presidential campaign, “there was an enthusiasm in the crowds,’’ Child said. “But I’m older now. My enthusiasm for the political scene has been dampened.’’

Child sees the buds on the trees in winter and worries about climate change; she wonders if any president can slow it. She shares the disillusionment with politics that many candidates speak of, but flinches at their easy talk of blowing things up and starting over.

Like others at a rally for Hillary Clinton Wednesday morning, she sees the former first lady, senator, and secretary of state as the most knowledgeable person in the field, in either party. But as she waited for Clinton at the local Boys and Girls Club, Child said she was looking for “something magnetic and substantial’’ in her candidate.

Substantial, she found. Magnetic?

Child is out of luck this year, when it seems votersmust choose between those two qualities. Clinton, as always, was masterful on the issues, laying out in sometimes exhaustive detail her views on gun control, health care, and corporate reform. The crowd, mostly older and white — until a busload of young campaign volunteers streamed in — applauded loudest when she ticked off a list of promises that amounted to progressive red meat, vowing to protect abortion rights and gay rights, fight corporate tax evasion, and help reverse the Supreme Court’s Citizens United decision.

But as much as voters here seemed to admire her, there was no getting around the fact that Clinton doesn’t inspire the same fervor as Obama — or Senator Bernie Sanders, the liberal firebrand from Vermont seen as likely to beat her in New Hampshire.

Part of that is because of who Clinton is — brilliant but wary. Part of it is because of what she’s been through. There’s no longer any novelty to her: She has been on the national stage for a generation, making her the most thoroughly vetted, and battered, presidential candidate in recent memory.

“Because we know her so well, there are things she’s done we haven’t liked . . . and Bernie is coming up fresh,’’ said Melissa Juchniewicz, a literature professor who came to the rally to help her decide between Clinton and Sanders. “She’s got to live down some things, just as she’s got to live up to some things.’’

Because Clinton has had the bejesus kicked out of her so often — the drubbings often fueled by sexism,and sometimes by her own missteps — she is a remarkably deliberate candidate. It was radical to push for universal health care in 1993. It’s hard to imagine her aiming that high now, or mustering the high dudgeon that works so well for Sanders. (It’s hard to imagine any woman candidate getting that worked up and being taken seriously.)

But even Obama, that master of soaring campaign poetry, has been forced by a recalcitrant Congress to govern in a quieter meter. His presidency shows that even half-loaves — the Affordable Care Act, immigration regulations, financial reform — can be transformative.

Clinton’s pitch is that she will continue Obama’s technocratic approach to change, that she’s a realist who can get things done.

The problem is, Sanders is promising whole loaves all around.

“There’s a lot of talk in this campaign between Senator Sanders and myself about whether voters will vote with their head or their heart,’’ Clinton said in Derry. “Let me ask you to vote with both.’’

Kari Lerner, a local campaign volunteer, has waited decades for a woman like Clinton to ascend to the highest office. She’s frustrated that Clinton is criticized for lacking Sanders’ passion.

“It’s hard to jump up and down and say ‘Let’s be reasonable, let’s do the work!’’’ Lerner said. “[It] doesn’t mean you’re not passionate.’’

Real change is incremental, Lerner said. In this Washington, she’s right.

But try putting that on a bumper sticker.

Globe columnist Yvonne Abraham can be reached at abraham@globe.com.