Past the ivy-covered windows of

The Angel

Down Athenaeum Lane to the cathedral

Through the churchyard I wandered

Sat for a spell there and I pondered

My back to the gates of the garden

My back to the gates of the garden

My back to the gates of the garden



Fugitive fathers, sickly infants, decent mothers

Runaways and suicidal lovers

Assorted boxes of ordinary bones

Of aborted plans and sudden shattered hopes

In unlucky rows, up to the gates of the garden

In unhappy rows, up to the gates of the garden

In unlucky rows, up to the gates of the garden





Won't you meet me at the gates

Won't you meet me at the gates

Won't you meet me at the gates

To the garden





Beneath the creeping shadow of the tower

The bell from St. Edmunds informs me of the hour

I turn to find you waiting there for me

In sunlight and I see the way that you breathe

Alive and leaning on the gates of the garden

Alive and leaning on the gates of the garden

Alive and leaning on the gates of the garden





Leave these ancient places to the angels

Let the saints attend to their keeping of the cathedrals

And leave the dead beneath the ground so cold

For God is in this hand that I hold

As we open up the gates of the garden





Won't you meet me at the gates

Won't you meet me at the gates

Won't you meet me at the gates

To the garden