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| THERE is a yew-tree, pride of Lorton Vale, | |
| Which to this day stands single in the midst | |
| Of its own darkness, as it stood of yore: | |
| Not loath to furnish weapons for the bands | |
| Of Umfraville or Percy ere they marched | 5 |
| To Scotland’s heaths; or those that crossed the sea, | |
| And drew their sounding bows at Azincour; | |
| Perhaps at earlier Crecy, or Poictiers. | |
| Of vast circumference and gloom profound | |
| This solitary Tree! a living thing | 10 |
| Produced too slowly ever to decay; | |
| Of form and aspect too magnificent | |
| To be destroyed. But worthier still of note | |
| Are those fraternal Four of Borrowdale, | |
| Joined in one solemn and capacious grove; | 15 |
| Huge trunks! and each particular trunk a growth | |
| Of intertwisted fibres serpentine | |
| Up-coiling, and inveterately convolved; | |
| Nor uninformed with fantasy, and looks | |
| That threaten the profane; a pillared shade, | 20 |
| Upon whose grassless floor of red-brown hue, | |
| By sheddings from the pining umbrage tinged | |
| Perennially; beneath whose sable roof | |
| Of boughs, as if for festal purpose, decked | |
| With unrejoicing berries, ghostly shapes | 25 |
| 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 scattered o’er | |
| With altars undisturbed of mossy stone, | 30 |
| United worship; or in mute repose | |
| To lie, and listen to the mountain flood | |
| Murmuring from Glaramara’s inmost caves. | |
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