George Essex Evans

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

George Essex Evans Poems

41. A Vision Of Christ 4/13/2010
42. Adrift: A Brisbane River Reverie 4/13/2010
43. Auri Sacra Fames 4/13/2010
44. A Commonplace Song 4/13/2010
45. A Drought Idyll 4/13/2010
46. Australia 4/13/2010
47. In Collins Street 4/13/2010
48. A Federal Song 4/13/2010
49. Lux In Tenebris 4/13/2010
50. The Nation Builders 4/13/2010
51. Brunton Stephens 4/13/2010
52. John Farrell 4/13/2010
53. At The Base Hospital 4/13/2010
54. By The Sea 4/13/2010
55. Failure 4/13/2010
56. An Australian Symphony 1/4/2003
57. Eland’s River 4/13/2010
58. A Pastoral 1/4/2003
59. A Nocturne 1/4/2003
60. Morning Land 4/13/2010
61. A Grave By The Sea 4/13/2010
62. The Women Of The West 1/4/2003

Comments about George Essex Evans

  • Sid Barker (12/31/2012 9:10:00 AM)

    The South Australian Register for 13 July 1897 gives details of a Jubilee song by George Essex Evans Victoria, Empress of the Free with music by George Christian Neech. I have failed to find any further reference to it and cannot trace the music. Can anybody help?

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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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