I was out and saw bags of birch logs for sale. They reminded me of this poem.
Logs to Burn.
Beechwood fires burn bright and clear
If the logs are kept a year.
Store your beech for Christmastide
With new-cut holly laid beside.
Chestnut’s only good they say
If for years ‘tis stored away;
Birch and firwood burn too fast,
Blaze too bright and do not last.
Flames from larch will shoot up high,
Dangerously the sparks will fly.
But ashwood green and ashwood brown
Are fit for a queen with a golden crown.
Oaken logs, if dry and old,
Keep away the winter’s cold.
Poplar gives a bitter smoke,
Fills your eyes and makes you choke.
Elmwood burns like churchyard mould
E’en the very flames are cold.
Hawthorn bakes the sweetest bread-
So it is in Ireland said;
Applewood will scent the room,
Pearwood smells like flowers in bloom,
But ashwood wet and ashwood dry
A king may warm his slippers by.
Logs to Burn.
Beechwood fires burn bright and clear
If the logs are kept a year.
Store your beech for Christmastide
With new-cut holly laid beside.
Chestnut’s only good they say
If for years ‘tis stored away;
Birch and firwood burn too fast,
Blaze too bright and do not last.
Flames from larch will shoot up high,
Dangerously the sparks will fly.
But ashwood green and ashwood brown
Are fit for a queen with a golden crown.
Oaken logs, if dry and old,
Keep away the winter’s cold.
Poplar gives a bitter smoke,
Fills your eyes and makes you choke.
Elmwood burns like churchyard mould
E’en the very flames are cold.
Hawthorn bakes the sweetest bread-
So it is in Ireland said;
Applewood will scent the room,
Pearwood smells like flowers in bloom,
But ashwood wet and ashwood dry
A king may warm his slippers by.
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