A Shropshire Lad - XXXII

    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.