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)
More Poetry from George Essex Evans:
George Essex Evans Poems based on Topics: Light, Life, Pain, Sadness, Home, Sleep- The Sword Of Pain (George Essex Evans Poems)
- Ad Astra (George Essex Evans Poems)
- Lux In Tenebris (George Essex Evans Poems)
- A Drought Idyll (George Essex Evans Poems)
- Ode To The Philistines (George Essex Evans Poems)
- Auri Sacra Fames (George Essex Evans Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Life Poems, Light Poems, Sadness Poems, Home Poems, Pain Poems, Sleep PoemsBased on Keywords: meted, pawns