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. 15. Tarry, Delight; so Seldom Met
3. Last Poems. 11. Yonder See the Morning Blink
4. More Poems. 25. Yon Flakes that Fret the Eastern Sky
5. Additional Poems. 14. Oh Is It the Jar of Nations

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