George Essex Evans

They left the vine-wreathed cottage and the mansion on the hill,
The houses in the busy streets where life is never still,
The pleasures of the city, and the friends they cherished best:
For love they faced the wilderness -the Women...

Half-lost in film of faintest lawn,
A single star in armour
Upon the dreamy heights of
Guards dim frontier of the night,

Across the street, across the grass,
Across my life I watch her pass
No pure star on a dusky
Hath eyes more bright,

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,

All things are Hers
Concealed or manifest,    Found or unfound,
Her Spirit lives in each—Dumb till the Master-Soul its secret guessed                And gave its silence speech
All things are Hers

There is scarlet on his forehead, There are scars across his face,’Tis the bloody dew of battle dripping down, dripping down, But the war-heart of the Lion Turns to iron in its
When he halts to face disaster, when he turns to meet disgrace,

In an age of Mammon and Greed, In an age of Humbug and Cant, Where Speech is greater than Deed In the reign of the sycophant,
Let us turn from the shameless lips that babble of things Divine,
And shout to the God we know not the Song of ...