In Time of Drought
by Mary Hannay Foott (1846-1918)
The rushes are black by the river
And the sheep and the cattle stand
Wistful-eyed, where the waters were
In a waste of gravel and sand;
Or pass oer 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 miners tool
And the wayfarer faints neath his lightened load
Yet the river of God is full
About the Author
See our page on Mary Hannay Foott. Includes a linked list of all her writing available on our website.
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