The Service-Pew; on Merrow Downs. I. WHEN the Druid, long of old, Solemn stalk'd in white and gold Down among those ancient yews Ranged in serpent avenues, Then wert thou a sapling tree, Then that Druid planted thee, Thousand-winter'd son of earth Thirty feet around in girth! LYRICS OF THE II. Thence, amid thine old compeers Thou hast stood these thousand years Changeless, save for sturdier growth, Watching in the lapse of time. Or the pilgrims rested well Trudging to St. Catherine's cell; Or the trampers to some fair Joked and swore and haggled there; Or beneath thy sheltering form Travellers crouch'd to fence the storm. III. So, in vegetable strength Down to modern days at length Hast thou stood in sluggish power, Ancient yew-tree, to this hour; Their gloomier mass of olive-brown? A service-tree of sturdy stem Born of thy solid trunk, on high Flings forth its trophy to the sky? IV. O marvel!-Poet, come once more And muse our other mystery o'er: The healthy service, springing new Ungrafted, from the deadly yew ? O'ertopping oldtime wrongs and fears,— All antique thraldoms throned above? Shall whelm the reign of sin and night, Breed happiness to all below? V. Ah, Poet!-well it is to view Such lessons in this service-yew; Yet, art thou stopt on fancy's wing By any peasant's questioning, "As how this yew could breed and rear "A greenleaf'd service like this here? Come then again, botanic friend, And bring the matter to an end: Or thereabouts-it must be so- And perch'd upon this yew hard by, And, snugly posted, there it stopt; Until the seed by some good hap Struck rootlets to its mother's lap, Till, like a cuckoo in the nest, Its patron soon will kill outright. L |