At Night

A poem by Alice Christiana Thompson Meynell

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.

O 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!

Reader Comments

Tell us what you think of 'At Night' by Alice Christiana Thompson Meynell

comments powered by Disqus

Home | Search | About this website | Contact | Privacy Policy