The Yew Tree

The wind has sighed upon my leaves Through many ages passed A sheltered place for he who grieves Beneath my branches vast I reach above towards the sky `Midst ancient slabs to dwell O touch me and you yet shall die Beware the tolling bell Behold my splendid aspect fixed Against the falling sun As there I stand, alone, betwixt All heav`n and everyone (Magnificent her posture be Her shadow softly falls Upon all those now ever free Laid down behind stone walls) Enfolded deep within my boughs I`ll bear your wearied soul To carry you, not e`er to rouse, Then meetly deem you whole To thus transform and so renew All set beyond this earth Deliver each as pure and true And grant e`erlasting birth