fisherimen's memorial and record book. 



139 



'^lii iriir 



THE FISHER'S WIDOW. 



BY GEORGE H. PROCTER. 



Fair was that morning in winter, 

 When he kissed her good-by. Fair was the 



breeze 

 Which filled the sails of his schooner, 

 As gayly she sped out of the harbor for Georges. 

 Fondly she gazed after him. 

 Watching the white foam which feathered the 



track 

 Of the "Margery" — her name, and that of 



the trim 



Little craft he commanded. 



Her prayers followed him, 

 And each night as her head pressed the pillow, 

 Her God was entreated to care for all 

 On the watery depths; then one 

 Earnest plea for Roger, — whose heart was 



hers, — 

 Would fall sweetly asleep, with 



Dreams full of bright pictures and fancies. 



Three weeks passed away, 

 Bringing around the time for his return ; 

 How anxious now the hours 1 For those com 



ingin 

 From the treacherous Banks, brought fearful 



tidings 

 Of a sudden gale I Terrible the tales 

 Of drifting vessels, of collisions and founder- 



ings. 

 Of hair-breadth escapes, broken spars. 



And parted cables. 



One after another, the fleet slowly rounded the 

 Point, 



For the wind had spent itself, and was gentle 

 now; 



But nearly all had torn sails, damaged spars or 

 hulls. 



As their names were repeated, many a heavy 

 heart 



In Gloucester town grew light; wives and chil- 

 dren 



Were happy as they greeted husbands and 

 fathers 

 Whom they feared would nevermore return. 



"Where's the 'Margery'? Have you seen 



her? 

 Tell me true I Have you not spoken the 



' Margery,* 

 Or seen her since the gale? " 

 These were the queries which the young wife 



made. 



One skipper said, " The * Margery ' 

 Lay right 'longside his vessel — the « Union,' 

 Two days afore the blow, and had shifted 



berths 

 Early in the momln' in hopes to finish their 



catch, 

 Then homeward go." Another said, " that a 



vessel. 

 Which he took to be her, had started for home 



