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Yew's sombre, darksome branches seem always to have been deemed emblematical of death and mourning. Herrick thus plaintively addresses the Yew and Cypresse.
Both you two have
Relation to the grave;
And where
The fun'rale trump sounds, you are there.
I shall be made
Ere long a fleeting shade;
Pray come
And doe some honour to my tomb.
Do not deny
My last request, for I
Will be
Thankful to you, or friends for me.
With far gladder feelings and memories do we meet the Holly's glossy and shining leaves; they tell us of Christmas merry-makings and kindly greetings; and though too many of the gleesome old customs have passed away, yet Christmas is still a festive season. The Laurel, too, is both an Autumn friend and a Christmas guest. We will quote Herrick again; he wished a Laurel-tree to grow upon his grave.
A funerale stone
Or verse, I covet none;
But only crave
Of you that I may have
A sacred laurel springing from my grave;
