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. More Poems. 11. The Rainy Pleiads Wester
2. More Poems. 25. Yon Flakes that Fret the Eastern Sky
3. More Poems. 15. Tarry, Delight; so Seldom Met
4. More Poems. 40. Farewell to a Name and a Number
5. Look Not In My Eyes, For Fear

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