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Robert Laurence Binyon - At Evening
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Fly home, my thoughts, that fretting
 In alien words all day,
 Have longed for the sun`s setting
 And wished all words away.
 Fly home to her that knows you,
 And in her heart repose you.

 Fly home, my thoughts, and flutter
 Like doves to gentle hands.
 You need no lips to utter
 What her heart well understands.
 Her heart will open to you:
 From far, my thoughts, she knew you.

 Breathe out your breath, like roses,
 About her loosened hair;
 Soothe each eyelid that closes
 With tender murmured prayer;
 Your happy vigil keeping
 Over her sacred sleeping.

 Fly home, my thought`s devotion,
 Fly fast and there abide.
 A barren senseless ocean
 Is all the world beside.
 Your home is only there, where she
 Shrines all the world`s desire for me.
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