Doors Of Sleep

Where the new might grow with the old Where the fool is oft times the wise Everything has got to be evened out Leaving as without a doubt Home, home from the horizon Far and clear Hither to the soft wings sweep Flocks of the memories Of the days draw near The dove-cote doors of sleep Which way are they, that come through this sweet light Of all these homing birds Which? with the straightest and the swiftest flight Your words to me, your words The first time I took this girl's hand She was as if for whom I was born And there's more besides a fair morning Needed for a fair day ------------------------------------------------------------------------------