A poem about Elijah Gibbs and Mary Morton

​In olden time in Blandford town, 
The parson held place of great renown; 
A learned man of austere mien, 
Interpreter of things unseen, 
Guardian of morals, spokesman for God, 
With dignity the earth he trod, 
With powdered wig and head in cloud 
Above the level of the common crowd.

His daughter, Mary, finely bred, 
Closely guarded lest she should wed 
Beneath her lofty place and sphere, 
Was to the parson's heart most dear.
Elijah was the deacon's son,
Strong limbed and keen but quite homespun, 
His spurs had won in Freedom's fight; 
Between the two 'twas love at sight.

The parson raved; he almost swore; 
He ordered Elijah from his door, 
But the youth who feared not British gun, 
Would scarce from a parson's anger run. 
Alas! not all the parson's pride 
Could build a wall with love outside. 
In spite of stern parental sway 
True love will have its own sweet way.

One bright morn in the month of June, 
When lovers' thoughts are in nature's tune, 
When it's just as easy for the heart to be true 
As for grass to be green and sky to be blue, 
The parson found ladder to window above, 
Open sesame for youthful love;
Out of the window the bird had flown, 
With her grandmother's gift of silver spoons.

In forest wild, four miles to the West, 
The young couple built their honeymoon nest 
A log cabin small in clearing new, 
As years went by to a cottage grew; 
The cottage became a mansion grand 
In wide expanse of well tilled land; 
Eleven children came to bless the pair, 
Stalwart sons and daughters fair.

​The parson's anger melted away 
As wealth and honor came to stay; 
Honored and respected far and wide, 
The runaway couple lived and died. 
Parson and wife in the churchyard lie; 
Elijah and Mary on the hill close by; 
Children and grandchildren bless the day, 
When true love had its own say.