Its roots and fibres stretch downward, and hold the skull and bones of the dead; like as his thoughts cling to his departed friend. Its “dusk” or shadow is before the church clock,[6] which strikes the hours of mortality, and this harmonizes with his life of mourning.
The tree preserves its “thousand years of gloom,” unchanged by the seasons which affect other things—the “old yew” continues always the same—
“And gazing on thee, sullen tree,
Sick for thy stubborn hardihood,
I seem to fail from out my blood,
And grow incorporate into thee.”
“Sick for” means, desirous of.
It might seem as if the Poet, whose scientific allusions are always so striking and correct, had overlooked, when he wrote this Poem, that the yew bore blossom and seed, like other trees: but it was not so. Of course, the Poet always knew, that a tree which bears a berry must have a blossom; but Sorrow only saw the winter gloom of the foliage.
Observe the recent introduction of Poem xxxix.; also the description, near the beginning of “The Holy Grail”—
“They sat
Beneath a world-old yew tree, darkening half
The cloisters, on a gustful April morn
That puff’d the swaying branches into smoke.
O, brother, I have seen this yew-tree smoke,
Spring after spring, for half a hundred years.”
It will be seen, in the later Poem, how a comparison with the gloomy yew has been modified.
III.
“Sorrow, cruel fellowship,” from which he cannot disengage himself, now reigns within him, and distorts with “lying lip”[7] all Nature and her beneficent workings; making these seem to have no purpose or end. All which is but an echo of his own dark feelings. Shall he then believe this false guide—