St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1904-03-23
Margery Gray.
An Early Vernon. Poem.

Inc following poem was WIlIteH many
years ago and is founded upon these
| facts: One spring a woman returning
| from days visit spent at a neighbor' s
became lost in the woods near Spring
field % in the lower part of this state
| over 100 years ago. After spending all
!, summer In trying to get out she finally
came out near Charleston, N. H., on the
opposite side of the river. so she must
have travelled in her wanderings to the
Canadian border and circled the Connec-
ticut lakes and then down to Charleston,
making many hundred miles travelled.
The story is true and was often told to
children in early days to frighten them
SO they would not go far from home.
The authors name is not known. Per-
haps some of our readers can give us
further facts and the authors name
Editor CALIFORNIAN.
Fair the cabin walls were cleaning in the
sunbeams' golden glow,
On that lovely April morning near hundred
And upone the humble threshold. stood the
young wife, Margery Gray, :
With her fearless blue eyes CHANGING down
the lonely forest way.
In her arms. her laughing baby with it's
fathers lark hair played.
AS he fingered there beside them, leaning
his trusty spade;
smile, said Robert Cray;
will you be too lonely, Margery, if I leave
you all the day ?'
Then she smiled cheerful answer ere she
spake single word.
And the tone OF her replying was as sweet
song of bird;
mo-" she said, "I'1l take the baby and go
stay with Annie Brown,
You must meet US there, dear Robert, ere
the sun has quite gone down."
Thus they parted; strong and sturdy all the
Spading up the fertile acres, from the stub
born forest won;
And when frightening shadows warned him
that the sun was in the west,
Down the woodland aisles he fastened,
whispering, Now, for home and rest
But when he had reached the clearing of his
friend mile away,
Neither wife child was waiting there to
welcome Robert Gray.
''She is safe at home" said Annie, for she
went an hour ago.
sit is strange did not meet her." came the
answer quick and low
path he scarce could see;
Here and there, his feet were guided onward
by some deep-gashed tree;
When at length be gained the cabin, black
and desOIate it stood,
Cold the hearth, the windows rayless, in the
StilleSt solitude.
With a murmured prayer, a shudder, and
sob of anguish wild,
Back he darted through the forest, calling on
his wife and child,
Soon the scattered settlers gathered from
the clearing far and near,
And the solemn woods TeSOunded with their
voices rising clear.
Torches fared and fires were kindled, and
the horns long peals rang out,
While the startled echoes answered to the
hardy woodlands shout;
But, in ain their sad endeavors, night by
night, and day by day,
For no sign or token found they of the child
or Margery Gray
Wo! Wo! for pretty Margery, with her
baby on her breast,
On her homeward way she started, fearing
nothing that could harm,
With a lip and brow untroubled, and a heart
in utter rest,
Through the dim woods she went singing to
the darling at her breast.
But, in sudden terror, pausing, gazed she
Where were all the white SCARED hern1ocks,
pointing out the lonely way?
"God of Mercies,'' she had wandered from
the pathway, not a tree,
Growing mute, but kindly warning, could
her straining vision see.
Twilight deepened into darkness, and the
stars came out on high.
All was silent IN the forest, save the owls
low brooding cry,
Round about her in the midnight stea1thy
And the babe upon her bosom closed it's
t1m1d eyes and slept.
could see a torch's CLEAN,
But, alas, she could not reach it, and it van
Then another shout. another, but she scream
ed and sobbed in vain,
Rushing wildly toward the presence she
could never, never gain.
and courage rose once more,
Surely, ere another nightfaIl, her long wan
behring's w ould be DER;
So she soothed the wailing baby, and when
faint from want of food,
She ate the nuts and acorns she found within
Oh, the days SO long and drearyl Oh, the
nights more dreary still
More than once she heard the sounding of
the horn from hill to hill;
More than once smouldering fire in some
And she knew her husbands footprints close
beside it on the ground
Dawned the fourth relentless morning, and
the suns Implying eyes.
Looked upon the haggard mother-1ooked
to see the baby die;
All day long, its plaintive meanings wrung
the heart of Margery Gray,
All night long her bosom Graded it, pa1lid
thing of clay.
Three days more she bore it with her, on her
rough and toilSOIne way,
Till across it's marbled beauty, stole the
plague spot of decay.
Then she knew that she must leave it in the
wilderness to sleep,
Where the proving wild beasts, only, watch
above its grave should keep.
Dumb with grief, she sat beside it, ah how
long she never knew!
Were the tales her mother taught her of the
All-Father, true
When the skies were brass above her and the
earth was cold and damp,
And when all her tears and p1eadings
brought no answer down from him.
But at last stern life, the tryant, babe her
take her burden up;
To her lips pale and shrunken, pressed
again the bitter cup;
Up she rose, still tramping onward, through
the forest far and wide,
Till the May flowers b1oomed and persisted,
and the sweet June roses died.
Till July and August brought her fruits and
berries from their store;
Till the goldenrod and aster said that sum-
mer was more;
Till the naples and the birches donned their
robes of green and gold;