Mary Hannay Foott

(1846 - 1918 / Australia)

Mary Hannay Foott Poems

1. To The White Julienne 3/2/2010
2. Up North 3/2/2010
3. Watch-Night 3/2/2010
4. Wentworth 3/2/2010
5. To Henry The Fifth 3/2/2010
6. To The Virgin Mary 3/2/2010
7. Where The Pelican Builds 1/4/2003
8. Ave Caesar! Morituri Te Salutant 3/1/2010
9. David's Lament For Jonathan 3/1/2010
10. For Charles Dickens 3/1/2010
11. In Memoriam C. G. Gordon 3/1/2010
12. Napoleon Iii 3/1/2010
13. Nearing Port 3/1/2010
14. No Message 3/1/2010
15. Sonnets - I - Christmas Day 3/1/2010
16. The Melbourne International Exhibition 3/2/2010
17. In The South Pacific 3/1/2010
18. The Aurora Australis 3/1/2010
19. The Belated Swallow 3/2/2010
20. The Magi To The Star 3/2/2010
21. The Massacre Of The Bards 3/2/2010
22. The Future Of Australia 3/2/2010
23. At The Fords Of Jordan 3/1/2010
24. Sonnets - Ii - The New Year 3/1/2010
25. The Australiad - (A Poem For Children.) 3/2/2010
26. The Fate Of Bass 1/1/2004
27. Happy Days 3/1/2010
28. No Message 1/4/2003
29. New Country 1/4/2003
30. Happy Days 1/4/2003
31. In The Land Of Dreams 3/1/2010
32. In Time Of Drought 3/1/2010

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Best Poem of Mary Hannay Foott

In Time Of Drought

The rushes are black by the river bed,
And the sheep and the cattle stand
Wistful-eyed, where the waters were,
In a waste of gravel and sand;
Or pass o'er their dying and dead to slake
Their thirst at the slimy pool.
Shall they pine and perish in pangs of drought
While Thy river, O God, is full.

The fields are furrowed, the seed is sown,
But no dews from the heavens are shed;
And where shall the grain for the harvest be?
And how shall the poor be fed?
In waterless gullies they winnow the earth,
New-turned by the miner's tool;
And the way-farer ...

Read the full of In Time Of Drought

The Fate Of Bass

On the snow-line of the summit stood the Spaniard's English slave;
And the frighted condor westward flew afar---
Where the torch of Cotopaxi lit the wide Pacific wave,
And the tender moon embraced a new-born star.
Blanched the cheek that Austral breezes off Van Diemen's coast had tanned,
Bent the form that on the deck stood stalwart there;
Slim and pallid as a woman's was the sailor's sunburnt hand,
And untimely silver streaked the strong man's hair.
From the forest far beneath him came

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