From far, from eve and morning
From far, from eve and morningAnd yon twelve-winded sky,The stuff of life to knit meBlew hither: here am I.
Now- for a breath I tarryNor 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 quartersI take my endless way.
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