Gates To The Garden

Past the ivy-covered windows ofThe AngelDown Athenaeum Lane to the cathedralThrough the churchyard I wanderedSat for a spell there and I ponderedMy back to the gates of the gardenMy back to the gates of the gardenMy back to the gates of the gardenFugitive fathers, sickly infants, decent mothersRunaways and suicidal loversAssorted boxes of ordinary bonesOf aborted plans and sudden shattered hopesIn unlucky rows, up to the gates of the gardenIn unhappy rows, up to the gates of the gardenIn unlucky rows, up to the gates of the gardenWon't you meet me at the gatesWon't you meet me at the gatesWon't you meet me at the gatesTo the gardenBeneath the creeping shadow of the towerThe bell from St. Edmunds informs me of the hourI turn to find you waiting there for meIn sunlight and I see the way that you breatheAlive and leaning on the gates of the gardenAlive and leaning on the gates of the gardenAlive and leaning on the gates of the gardenLeave these ancient places to the angelsLet the saints attend to their keeping of the cathedralsAnd leave the dead beneath the ground so coldFor God is in this hand that I holdAs we open up the gates of the gardenWon't you meet me at the gatesWon't you meet me at the gatesWon't you meet me at the gatesTo the garden