Yule Log

At the last utterly 
To earth's own end
Let the bole of this tree
Break when its boughs bend.

Let every branch blow bare, 
All fallen leaves lie mute:
The mind was of the air, 
The heart is with the root.

Now let the season claim
Another to the past
Who, naked of a name, 
Enters the earth at last.

Forever be forgot
These boughs with blooms they bore
Where dead winds tremble not,
Trouble this tree no more.


This Tree, by Carleton Drewry