George Essex Evans

(18 June 1863 – 10 November 1909 / London, England)

George Essex Evans Poems

1. Ode To The Philistines 4/13/2010
2. Seddon 4/13/2010
3. The Grey Road 4/13/2010
4. The Land Of The Dawning 4/13/2010
5. The Lion's Whelps 4/13/2010
6. The Dead Democrat 4/13/2010
7. The Song Of Life 4/13/2010
8. The Splendour And The Curse Of Song 4/13/2010
9. The Wayfarers 4/13/2010
10. Welcome 4/13/2010
11. William Henry Groom Vale` 4/13/2010
12. Women Of The West 4/13/2010
13. Thomas Joseph Byrnes 4/13/2010
14. To A Bigot 4/13/2010
15. To The Unknown God 4/13/2010
16. Toowoomba 4/13/2010
17. Victoria 4/13/2010
18. The Sword Of Pain 4/13/2010
19. The Two Goblets 4/13/2010
20. The Crown Of Empire 4/13/2010
21. The Song Of Gracia 4/13/2010
22. The Master 4/13/2010
23. Out Of The Silence 4/13/2010
24. Riches 4/13/2010
25. Morning Land 4/13/2010
26. The Average Man 4/13/2010
27. On The Plains 1/1/2004
28. The Doves Of Venus 4/13/2010
29. The Dream Star 4/13/2010
30. The Spirit Of Poetry 4/13/2010
31. The Wheels Of The System 4/13/2010
32. To The Irish Dead 4/13/2010
33. Ad Astra 4/13/2010
34. Loraine 4/13/2010
35. The Plains 4/13/2010
36. The Secret Key 4/13/2010
37. A Grave By The Sea 4/13/2010
38. Kara 4/13/2010
39. In A Garden 4/13/2010
40. From Loraine 4/13/2010
Best Poem of George Essex Evans

The Women Of The West

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 of the West.

The roar, and rush, and fever of the city died away,
And the old-time joys and faces -- they were gone for many a day;
In their place the lurching coach-wheel, or the creaking bullock chains,
O'er the everlasting sameness of the never-ending plains.

In the slab-built, zinc-roofed homestead of some lately taken ...

Read the full of The Women Of The West

The Women Of The West

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 of the West.

The roar, and rush, and fever of the city died away,
And the old-time joys and faces -- they were gone for many a day;
In their place the lurching coach-wheel, or the creaking bullock chains,
O'er the everlasting sameness of the never-e

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