Poem by William Harrison Ainsworth

The Churchyard Yew

                ---- Metuendaque succo 
	       Taxus.
                                                  STATIUS.

A noxious tree is the churchyard yew,
As if from the dead its sap it drew;
Dark are its branches, and dismal to see,
Like plumes at Death’s latest solemnity.
Spectral and jagged, and black as the wings
Which some spirit of ill o’er a sepulchre flings:
Oh! a terrible tree is the churchyard yew;
Like it is nothing so grimly to view.

Yet this baleful tree hath a core so sound,
Can nought so tough in the grove be found;
From it were fashioned brave English bows,
The boast of our isle, and the dread of its foes.
For our sturdy sires cut their stoutest staves
From the branch that hung o’er their fathers’ graves;
And though it be dreary and dismal to view,
Staunch at the heart is the churchyard yew.

1. One Foot in the Stirrup, or Turpin's First Fling
2. The Game of High Toby
3. The Modern Greek
4. The Legend of Valdez
5. The Soul-Bell

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