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. Additional Poems. 13. Oh Turn not in from Marching
2. More Poems. 9. When Green Buds Hang in the Elm Like Dust
3. More Poems. 32. Their Seed the Sowers Scatter
4. Last Poems. 32. When I Would Muse in Boyhood
5. More Poems. 18. Delight it Is in Youth and May

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1947

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