Potted Flowers with Books IV Eric Barjot from 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. A.E. Houseman (26th March 1859 - 30th April 1936) |
Thursday 21 January 2016
The Thursday Poem
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