As I came homeward

At merry Christmas,

By the old church tower,

Through the churchyard grass,

And saw there, circled

With graves all about,

The yew-tree paternal,

The yew-tree devout,

Then this hot life-blood

Was hard to endure,

O Death! so I loved thee,

The sole love sure.

For stars slip in heaven,

They wander, they break:

But under the yew-tree

Not one heartache.

And ours, what failure

Renewed and avowed!

But ah, the long-buried

Is leal, and is proud.

Now I came homeward

At merry Christmas,

By the wise gray tower,

Through the green kind grass.