Poems (Meynell, 1921)/At Night

by Alice Meynell

For works with similar titles, see At Night.

 

AT NIGHT

To W. M.

HOME, home from the horizon far and clear,
⁠⁠Hither the soft wings sweep;
Flocks of the memories of the day draw near
⁠⁠The dovecote doors of sleep.

Oh, which are they that come through sweetest light
⁠⁠Of all these homing birds?
Which with the straightest and the swiftest flight?
⁠⁠Your words to me, your words!