A Shropshire Lad/From far, from eve and morning

by Alfred Edward Housman

XXXII

From far, from eve and morningAnd you twelve-winded sky,The stuff of life to knit meBlew hither: here am I.

Now—for a breath I tarryNor yet disperse apart—Take my hand quick and tell me,What have you in your heart.

Speak now, and I will answer;How shall I help you, say;Ere to the wind's twelve quartersI take my endless way.

 

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