Mary Hannay Foott
Mary Hannay Foott Poems
A fringe of rushes -- one green line
Upon a faded plain;
A silver streak of water-shine --
Above, tree-watchers twain.
It was our resting-place awhile,
And still, with backward gaze,
We say: "'Tis many a weary mile --
But there were happy days."
And shall no ripple break the sand
Upon our farther way?
Or reedy ranks all knee-deep stand?
Or leafy tree-tops sway?
The gold of dawn is surely met
In sunset's lavish ...
She heard the story of the end,
Each message, too, she heard;
And there was one for every friend;
For her alone -- no word.
And shall she bear a heavier heart,
And deem his love was fled;
Because his soul from earth could part
Leaving her name unsaid?