Where the Pelican Builds
and other Poems

Happy Days

Mary Hannay Foott

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 blaze;
And—in horizons hidden yet—
    There shall be happy days.

Where the Pelican Builds - Contents

Back    |    Words Home    |    Mary Foott Home    |    Site Info.    |    Feedback