George Essex Evans (Джордж Эссекс Эванс)

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!"

1. “But the Greatest of These is Charity”
2. The Crown of Empire
3. The Splendour and the Curse of Song
4. The Spirit of Poetry
5. Ode to the Philistines

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