A. E. Housman(1859–1936)
From Far, from Eve and Morning
From Far, from Eve and Morning
And yon twelve-winded sky,7
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.