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
