Rutland weekly herald. [volume] (Rutland, Vt.) 1859-1877, 1865-09-07
ny MRS. JULIA @, H. DoRR.


And upon the humble threshold stood the young
wife, NJ ,rgery Grey,
With her fearless blue eyes glancing down the
lonely forest way.
In her arms her laughing baby with its fathers
dark hair PLAYED,
As he fingered there beside them leaning on bis
trus spade;
al am gotug T. the wheat-lot,n with smile
s'id Robert Gre'i
"will you be too lonely, Margery, If leave
yeu all the day.
Then she smiled cheerful answer, ere she spoke
And the tone OF her replying was as sweet as song
,.No,n She said, 'I'n take the baby, and 60
and stay with Annie Brown;
You must meet us there, dear Robert, ere the
sun has quite gone down.
Thus they parted. Strong aud sturdy all day
long he labored on,
And when LEI gthening shadows warned him
that the sun was in the west,
Down the woodland aisles he fastened, whisper
ing, ''Now for home and restP
But when he mad reached the clearing of their
friend, mile away,
Neither wife nor child was waiting there TO well
come Robert Grey.
"She is safe at home" said Annie, "fOr she
went an hour ago"
at is strange did not meet her." came the
answer, quick and low.
Back he sped, but night was falling, and the
path be scarce could see;
Here and there his feet were guided onward by
some deep gsshed tree;
Whsn at length he gained the cabin, black and
desoate It God,
Cold the hearth the windows rayless, in the
stillest solitude
With a murmured prayer, shudder, and sob
of anguish wild,
Back he darte through the forest, calling on his
wife and child.
Soon the scattered settlers gathered from the
clearings far and near,
And ths solemn woods resounded with their
voices rising clear.
Torches hared, and fires were kindled, and the
horns long peal rang ont,
While the startled echoes answered TO the hardy
woodman's shout;
But in vain their sad endeayor, night by night,
For mo sign p nor % token found they the child
or Margery Grey!
Woe woe for pretty Margery with her baby
on her arm
On her homeward way she started, fearing
nothing that could harm;
With lip and brow untroubled, and heart in
utter rest,
Through the dim woods she went singing to the
darling az her breast.
But in sudden terror pausing sazed she round
in blank dismay,-
Where were all the whlte-scarred hemIocks
pointing out the lonely way!
God of Mercies She had wandered from the
pathway! nota tree,
Giving mule. but kindly warning, could her
strainipg WIS on see.
Twilight deepened into darkness, and the stars
came out on high;
All was silent in the forest save the OWLS low,
boding cry;
Round about her in the midnight stealthy
And tie babe upon her bosom closed it's timid
eyes and slept.
Hark! a shout! and in the distance she could
see a torch's gieam;
But alas, she could not reach It, and it vanished
like dream;
Then snother shout,-another. but she screamed
and sobeed In vain,
Rushing wildly toward the presence she could
never, never gain
Morning came and with the sunheams hope and
courage rose once more;
Surely ere another nightfal her long wander
ing would be DER;
So sh SCOT I'd the walllng baby, and when faint
for wan of food,
Ate the wintergreens and acorns that she found
within the wood.
Q the days 90 long and dreary' the nights
more dreary still,
More than once she heard the sounding of the
horn from hill to hill;
More than o. ce a Smouldering fire in some shell
tering neck she found,
And she knew her husbands footprints close
BESIDE 1t on the ground.
Dawned the fourth relentless morning, and the
SUMS Implying eye
Looked upon the hagg ard motheF, looked to see
the baby die;
All day long its plaintive meanings wrung the
heart of Margery Grey,
All night long Ter bosom Graded IT, pallid
thu of clay
Three days more she bore i: W it'll her, on her
rough and toilsoma way,
Till across its m 4rble beauty stole the plague
spot of decay;
Then she knew that she must leave it in the
wilderness 10 sleep,
Where the proving wild beasts only watch
above its grave should keep.
Dumb with grief she sat beside it. All! how
long she never knew
Were the tales her mother taught her of the
dear ALL Father true,
When the skies were brass above her, and the
earth was cold and dim,
And when all her tears and pleadings brought
no ans Eer down from Him!
But at last stern Life, the tyrant, babe her take
her burden up
To her lips SO pale and shrunken pressed again
the bitter cup;
Up she rose, still ttamping onward through the
forest ia and wide,
| Till the May flowers bloomed and persisted, and
the sweeI June roses died!
Till July and August brought her fruits and
berries from their store;
TIL the golden-rod and aster said that summer
was no more;
Till the NAPLES and the birches douned Their
robes OF green and gold;
LII the Dhus were hasting southwark, and the
days were growing cold.
| Was she doomed to roam forever DER the desc
lated EARTH
She, the last and only being in those wilds Of
| human birth?
! Sometimes from her dreary pathway wolf or
| black bear turned away, -a
| But not once d human presence bless the sight
OF Margery Grey.
| One chill morning in October, when the woods
were brown and bare,
| Through the streets of ancient Charlest OVID,
With strange, bewildered air,
Walked a gaunt and pallid woman, whose
| dishevelled locks Of brown
| Ger her naked breast and shoulders in the wind
! were streaming down.
Wondering glances fell upon her; women