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A Nocturne

by George Essex Evans (1863 - 1909)

Australian writer

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!"

About the Author

See our page on George Essex Evans. Includes a linked list of all his writing available on our website.

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