From Far, From Eve And Morning

Alfred Edward Housman

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.

Next 10 Poems

• Alfred Edward Housman : Here Dead We Lie
• Alfred Edward Housman : Ho, Everyone That Thirsteth
• Alfred Edward Housman : Hughley Steeple
• Alfred Edward Housman : I Hoed And Trenched And Weeded
• Alfred Edward Housman : If By Chance Your Eye Offend You
• Alfred Edward Housman : If Truth In Hearts That Perish
• Alfred Edward Housman : In My Own Shire, If I Was Sad
• Alfred Edward Housman : In Valleys Of Springs And Rivers
• Alfred Edward Housman : Into My Heart An Air That Kills
• Alfred Edward Housman : Is My Team Ploughing

Previous 10 Poems

• Alfred Edward Housman : Fragment Of A Greek Tragedy
• Alfred Edward Housman : Farewell To Barn And Stack And Tree
• Alfred Edward Housman : Far In A Western Brookland
• Alfred Edward Housman : Epitaph On An Army Of Mercenaries
• Alfred Edward Housman : Eight O'clock
• Alfred Edward Housman : Diffugere Nives ( Horace, Odes 4.7 )
• Alfred Edward Housman : Could Man Be Drunk Forever
• Alfred Edward Housman : Clunton And Clunbury
• Alfred Edward Housman : Bring, In This Timeless Grave To Throw
• Alfred Edward Housman : Bredon Hill