Alfred Edward Housman (Альфред Эдвард Хаусман (Хаусмен))

A Shropshire Lad. 32. From Far, from Eve and Morning

From far, from eve and morning
   And yon twelve-winded sky,
The stuff of life to knit me
   Blew hither: here am I.

Now - for a breath I tarry
   Nor 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 quarters
   I take my endless way.

1. More Poems. 15. Tarry, Delight; so Seldom Met
2. Last Poems. 27. The Sigh That Heaves the Grasses
3. Last Poems. 11. Yonder See the Morning Blink
4. Additional Poems. 5. Here Are the Skies, the Planets Seven
5. More Poems. 9. When Green Buds Hang in the Elm Like Dust

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1694

Последние стихотворения

To English version