I thought I’d start the year with a sprinkling of verses on yew trees from the pens of poets through the ages. As might be expected from such a subject, made for deep thought, many have felt moved to write on the yew and one wonders whether any other tree could have been more inspiring.

Most famous by far, is ‘Yew Trees’ by William Wordsworth (1770-1850), which he dedicated to the yews of Borrowdale. Here is an excerpt:-

‘Of boughs, as if for festal purpose decked
With unrejoicing berries -ghostly Shapes
May meet at noontide: Fear and trembling Hope,
Silence and Foresight, Death the Skeleton
And Time the Shadow; there to celebrate,
As in a natural temple’

Of the same era, Charlotte Smith in ‘Ode to an old soul’ writes of the yew:-

‘Tell me of the time when you once held court over

growing saplings, teaching them the ways of the

ancient trees.

I watch you through the changing seasons,

and my heart glows…..

you are evergreen and as solid and dependable as

Nature made you.

Wise, wise Yew,

What divine power guides your very lifeforce?

For there is a spiritual intelligence within you

that is so alive and omnipotent.’

Sylvia Plath says of the Yew ‘the message of the yew tree is blackness - blackness and silence, while Brian Mc. Neil in his poem ‘The Yew Tree’s, points to the ancient yew standing at the gates of time to look both back and forwards:-

‘A mile frae Pentcaitland, on the road to the sea

Stands a yew tree a thousand years old 

And the old women swear by the grey o' their hair 

That it knows what the future will hold.’

Few know that the heart of Thomas Hardy, a writer who gave us so much fine literature, such as ‘Far from the madding crowd’, is actually buried in the shade of Stinsford Churchyard’s ancient yew tree, not far from the grave of Thomas Voss and so here on a light note with a verse from Hardy’s poem ‘Voices from Things Growing in a Churchyard’ is:-

‘I, these berries of juice and gloss,

Sir or Madam,

Am clean forgotten as Thomas Voss;

Thin-urned, I have burrowed away from the moss

That covers my sod, and have entered the yew,

And turned to clusters ruddy of view,

All day cheerily, All night eerily!’

 

Finally from a poem called ‘Tree Party’ by Louis MacNeice:-

‘Your health Master Yew. My bones are few

And I fully admit my rent is due,

But do not be vexed, I will postdate a cheque for you’.

 

Please keep signing and sharing the petition that we might meet with some success. At present the Welsh Assembly are debating how they might help protect ancient yews in Wales.