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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.

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