Monday, October 27

From Far, from Eve

From Far, from Eve

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.

A.E. Housman