The fallen tree lies still br Amongst the hush of autumn morn, br And dwells within a weeded tomb br Upon an amber bed, br The silence stirred from slumber br Crunching leaves beneath my feet, br When once they flickered in the breeze br They never shall again. br br The fallen tree lies still br Amongst the nettles that remain, br And cloaked within an olive shawl br That cannot keep it warm, br For wrapped in moss that stains the bark br Upon its brittle trunk, br So soft like down unto my hand br Yet dampened by the dew. br br The fallen tree lies still br Amongst the mass of broken twigs, br As beams descend through branches bare br Upon the woodland floor, br To light the wilting bracken br On the long and winding path, br As I walk by it gently waves br And bids a last farewell.