AT NIGHT
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!
Alice
Maynell
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/periodicals/RADREC19280113.2.31.6
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Radio Record, Volume I, Issue 26, 13 January 1928, Page 6
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59AT NIGHT Radio Record, Volume I, Issue 26, 13 January 1928, Page 6
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