IVY. 
m 
The wall must be crumbled, the stones decayed, 
To pleasure his dainty whim ; 
And the moldering dust that years have made 
Is a merry meal for him. 
Creeping where no life is seen, 
A rare old plant is the ivy green. 
Fast he stealeth on, though he wears no wings. 
And a staunch old heart has he : 
How closely he twineth, how tight he clings 
To his friend, the huge oak-tree ! 
And slyly he traileth along the ground, 
And his leaves he gently waves, 
And he joyously twines and hugs around 
The rich mold of dead men’s graves. 
Creeping where no life is seen, 
A rare old plant is the ivy green. 
Whole ages have fled, and their Avorks decayed. 
And nations scattered been, 
But the stout old ivv shall never fade 
From its hale and hearty green. 
The brave old plant in its lonely days 
Shall fatten upon the past, 
For the stateliest building man can raise 
Is the ivy’s food at last. 
Creeping where no life is seen, 
A rare old plant is the ivy green. 
