Poem by Alfred Edward Housman

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. A Shropshire Lad. 56. The Day of Battle
2. More Poems. 33. On Forelands High in Heaven
3. More Poems. 21. The World Goes None the Lamer
4. More Poems. 17. Bells in Tower at Evening Toll
5. Last Poems. 39. When Summer’s End Is Nighing

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