In My Garden Concentration this week has been upon the
trimming of the yew hedges. What labour well spent it is! The firm, square shapes that emerge as austere divisions of the various riots of midsummer colour in the garden remind me of the tribute paid by V. Sackville-West in her new long poem The Garden. She gives several pages of her verse to praise of the yew, calling it
" . . that prince, that poet of our trees That to our humour docile condescends " and showing us how ". the strong daylight makes the yew a grove, A very temple of retreat or love," and closing her praise with the following lines, " This is the tranquil, ancient, wise, sedate Counseller yew, not briskly eloquent But, to the listener, with much to say ;
As much as glades that whisper in a wood
But neater and more orderly than they."
Certainly I have never regretted the planting of my yew hedges. In
six years they have given the garden its character, and particularised the # beauty of beds and borders that otherwise would be commonplace.
RICHARD CHURCH.
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