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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.

Alfred Edward Housman

Alfred Edward Housman's other poems:
  1. Additional Poems. 1. Atys
  2. Additional Poems. 2. Oh Were He and I Together
  3. Last Poems. 22. The Sloe Was Lost in Flower
  4. More Poems. 9. When Green Buds Hang in the Elm Like Dust
  5. Additional Poems. 11a. They Shall Have Breath that Never Were

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