 | Sonnets and Other Poems Chiefly Religious |  |
63
THE YEWS OF BORROWDALE.
I stood beneath the yews of Borrowdale,
Renowned in Wordsworth's poem. Fifty years
Have added fifty circles to the grain
Of younger trees, since Wordsworth wrote those lines:
But these are what they were when he described
Their gloomy shade and wild contorted boughs.
Renowned in Wordsworth's poem. Fifty years
Have added fifty circles to the grain
Of younger trees, since Wordsworth wrote those lines:
But these are what they were when he described
Their gloomy shade and wild contorted boughs.
To Grasmere's churchyard then my thoughts returned,
Where Wordsworth waits the rising of the dead.
For there four yews were planted by his hand,
And shadow now his low but honoured grave.
Young are they yet, and slender; but a time
May be, long after these of Borrowdale
Into their parent dust have mouldered back,
When those of Grasmere, too, shall in their turn
Be gnarled with age, and verging to decay;
When men shall come to visit Wordsworth's grave,
Speaking our language, but from distant lands
Where the magnolia blossoms, and from heights
Of Himalaya, clothed with deodars;
And spell the lichen-stained and time-worn name
Upon the stone that marks his place of rest;
And muse beneath the yew-trees' twilight shade,
Beside the Rotha's clear and quiet pools,
With thoughts too deep for pleasure; then survey
With more than common love and thankfulness,
The lakes and streams and mountains Wordsworth loved,
And call the place their spirits' fatherland.
Where Wordsworth waits the rising of the dead.
For there four yews were planted by his hand,
And shadow now his low but honoured grave.
Young are they yet, and slender; but a time
May be, long after these of Borrowdale
Into their parent dust have mouldered back,
When those of Grasmere, too, shall in their turn
Be gnarled with age, and verging to decay;
When men shall come to visit Wordsworth's grave,
Speaking our language, but from distant lands
Where the magnolia blossoms, and from heights
Of Himalaya, clothed with deodars;
And spell the lichen-stained and time-worn name
Upon the stone that marks his place of rest;
64
Beside the Rotha's clear and quiet pools,
With thoughts too deep for pleasure; then survey
With more than common love and thankfulness,
The lakes and streams and mountains Wordsworth loved,
And call the place their spirits' fatherland.
| Sonnets and Other Poems Chiefly Religious | |