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. Additional Poems. 4. It Is No Gift I Tender
2. Last Poems. 26. The Half-Moon Westers Low, My Love
3. More Poems. 46. The Land of Biscay
4. More Poems. 40. Farewell to a Name and a Number
5. Additional Poems. 2. Oh Were He and I Together

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