A. E. Housman
From far, from eve and morning
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