George Essex Evans

Like weary sea-birds spent with flight   And faltering,
The slow hours beat across the night   On leaden wing
The wild bird knows where rest shall be   Soe'er he roam
Heart of my heart

HE
OY went out from the ranges grim,
And the breath of the mountains went with him;
With a song in his heart and a smile on his face,

Girl, with the soft grey eyes,
You to the flowers belong:
From the perfume of a
My heart shall weave you a song

Chequered with sunshine and shade—the umbrage of white clouds in motion—Rearing their summits to Heaven, broken like waves on their strands,
Northward and southward and seaward the mountains arise from the ocean—Poised on a height above all,<...

When first the Gods, whose Empire is eternal, In Time’s deep chalice poured Life’s sacred wine,
Flashed all the crystal cup with fire supernal; Then said they: “Shall the mortal be divine
Shall man usurp the ways the Gods have trod
...

The pen falls from his nerveless hand,    The light is fading from his eyes,
The brain that nobly served his land        Darkens and dies
No, never dies
From hour to hour    The burning thought is living still;

I stood in the heart of the city street,
I felt the throb of her pulses beat,
The thunder of life on the sunny air,
The waves of the people everywhere,