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George Essex Evans (Джордж Эссекс Эванс)


“But the Greatest of These is Charity”


White faces turn to us again
   Sad eyes from out their veils of clay:
Strength stricken low, and hopeless pain,
               Haunt us to-day.
Their wild eyes burn across our sleep:
   They haunt us in the busy throng
With silent eloquence, more deep
               Than word or song.

Give: we are pawns upon the board;
   We see not how Fate’s dice are thrown.
The life swung by a trembling cord
               Might be your own.

Give: ’twill be meted back to thee
   When Death who waits, soe’er we roam,
Withdraws the veil that we may see
               The Lights of Home.



George Essex Evans's other poems:
  1. Ad Astra
  2. At the Base Hospital
  3. The Secret Key
  4. The Grey Road
  5. The Crown of Empire


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