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!