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. Last Poems. 21. The Fairies Break Their Dances
2. Additional Poems. 16. Some Can Gaze and not Be Sick
3. More Poems. 18. Delight it Is in Youth and May
4. Last Poems. 19. In Midnights of November
5. More Poems. 21. The World Goes None the Lamer

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