George Essex Evans

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

A Nocturne


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! apart from thee
   I have no home.

Afar from thee, yet not alone,
   Heart of my heart!
Like some soft haunting whisper blown
   From Heaven thou art.
I hear the magic music roll
   Its waves divine;
The subtle fragrance of thy soul
   Has passed to mine.

Nor dawn nor Heaven my heart can know
   Save that which lies
In lights and shades that come and go
   In thy soft eyes.
Here in the night I dream the day,
   By love upborne,
When thy sweet eyes shall shine and say
   "It is the morn!"

Submitted: Saturday, January 04, 2003

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read poems about / on: magic, heaven, music, dream, home, sea, alone, heart, night

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (A Nocturne by George Essex Evans )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  9. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. "Twist these Big Tits Purple", Richard Thripp
  2. गोरबो इसिँनिफ्राइ -66, Ronjoy Brahma
  3. Stories Are Created, Lawrence S. Pertillar
  4. When Fresh Fish Fails, Richard Thripp
  5. center, laxami Cards
  6. गोरबो इसिँनिफ्राइ -65, Ronjoy Brahma
  7. Im sorry mom, claudia Fernandez
  8. Witless Innocence, Lawrence S. Pertillar
  9. Sitters And Their Dreams, Lawrence S. Pertillar
  10. There Is Nothing I Can Do, Lawrence S. Pertillar

Poem of the Day

poet Sir Thomas Wyatt

My lute awake! perform the last
Labour that thou and I shall waste,
And end that I have now begun;
For when this song is sung and past,
My lute be still, for I have done.

...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]