| 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 | 5 |
| 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; | 10 |
| Ere to the wind's twelve quarters | |
| I take my endless way. |
---Steve
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