From far, from eve and morning
Now---for a breath I tarry
Speak now, and I will answer;
And yon twelve-winded sky,
The stuff of life to knit me
Blew hither: here am I.
Nor yet disperse apart---
Take my hand quick and tell me,
What have you in your heart.
How shall I help you, say;
Ere to the wind's twelve quarters
I take my endless way.
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Page last updated: 11 November 1998 ©1998-1999, Richard J. Yanco |