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.
* * * * * *
At eve, o'erlooking
The smooth chilly tide,
With age-hidden meaning
The Yew-tree sighed,
By the square grey tower,
In the short grey grass,
As I came homeward
At merry Christmas.