 | Lyra Pastoralis |  |
The Avenue of Yews
In a dim avenue of ancient yews
I love to muse,
Their interlacing branches o'er my head
Roof-like outspread,
As in the sylvan cloister to and fro
Wander at early morn my footsteps slow.
I love to muse,
Their interlacing branches o'er my head
Roof-like outspread,
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Wander at early morn my footsteps slow.
Between the massy columns of the trees
A constant breeze
Wavers, and rubies twinkle, as I pass,
Upon the grass,
Dropt from the agèd boughs, on which are seen
Myriads of berries blushing through the green.
A constant breeze
Wavers, and rubies twinkle, as I pass,
Upon the grass,
Dropt from the agèd boughs, on which are seen
Myriads of berries blushing through the green.
Month after month the fruit grows red and sweet,
From Summer heat
To Winter frost—and strewn upon the ground
Each morn is found;
While birds with fluttering wing and twittering voice
Make all the solemn avenue rejoice.
From Summer heat
To Winter frost—and strewn upon the ground
Each morn is found;
While birds with fluttering wing and twittering voice
Make all the solemn avenue rejoice.
For centuries have stood those yew-trees grand,
And still may stand
For centuries, and in their pillared shade
A path be made
By feet of generations yet unborn,
For whom will fall fresh rubies morn by morn.
And still may stand
For centuries, and in their pillared shade
A path be made
By feet of generations yet unborn,
For whom will fall fresh rubies morn by morn.
Thus in that group of yew-trees evergreen
A type is seen
Of holy men, the pillars of God's Word,
By heaven's breath stirred,
Who wrote of old the healing leaves divine,
Where promises more bright than rubies shine.
A type is seen
Of holy men, the pillars of God's Word,
By heaven's breath stirred,
Who wrote of old the healing leaves divine,
Where promises more bright than rubies shine.
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And daily in this whispering colonnade,
This vocal shade,
Of Holy Scripture I delight to walk,
And hear God talk,
And meditate on many a promise sweet,
Like precious rubies scattered at my feet.
This vocal shade,
Of Holy Scripture I delight to walk,
And hear God talk,
And meditate on many a promise sweet,
Like precious rubies scattered at my feet.
And as these trees of life a blessing bore
For saints of yore,
So when long years from each familiar place
Our steps efface,
To these “old paths” our children shall repair,
God's voice to hear and find fresh rubies there!
For saints of yore,
So when long years from each familiar place
Our steps efface,
To these “old paths” our children shall repair,
God's voice to hear and find fresh rubies there!
| Lyra Pastoralis | |