<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=396008" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Women of the West</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">They left the vine-wreathed cottage and the mansion on the hill, <br>The houses in the busy streets where life is never still, <br>The pleasures of the city, and the friends they cherished best: <br>For love they faced the wilderness -- the Women of the West. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The roar, and rush, and fever of the city died away, <br>And the old-time joys and faces -- they were gone for many a day; <br>In their place the lurching coach-wheel, or the creaking bullock chains, <br>O'er the everlasting sameness of the never-ending plains. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the slab-built, zinc-roofed homestead of some lately taken run, <br>In the tent beside the bankment of a railway just begun, <br>In the huts on new selections, in the camps of man's unrest, <br>On the frontiers of the Nation, live the Women of the West. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The red sun robs their beauty, and, in weariness and pain, <br>The slow years steal the nameless grace that never comes again; <br>And there are hours men cannot soothe, and words men cannot say -- <br>The nearest woman's face may be a hundred miles away. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The wide bush holds the secrets of their longing and desires, <br>When the white stars in reverence light their holy altar fires, <br>And silence, like the touch of God, sinks deep into the breast -- <br>Perchance He hears and understands the Women of the West. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">For them no trumpet sounds the call, no poet plies his arts -- <br>They only hear the beating of their gallant, loving hearts. <br>But they have sung with silent lives the song all songs above -- <br>The holiness of sacrifice, the dignity of love. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Well have we held our father's creed. No call has passed us by. <br>We faced and fought the wilderness, we sent our sons to die. <br>And we have hearts to do and dare, and yet, o'er all the rest, <br>The hearts that made the Nation were the Women of the West.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=George+Essex+Evans">George Essex Evans</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=396008" data-title="The Women of the West de George Essex Evans" data-description="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 We..."></div> </div> </div>

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