IVY. 
235 
And in the currents of the air 
Its tender branches flourished fair. 
It reached the beam—it thrilled—it curled— 
It blessed the warmth that cheers the world ! 
It rose towards the dungeon bars— 
It looked upon the sun and stars. 
It felt the life of bursting Spring, 
It heard the happy skylark sing ; 
It caught the breath of morns and eves, 
And wooed the swallow to its leaves. 
By rains and dews, and sunshine fed, 
Over the outer wall it spread ; 
And in the daybeam, waving free, 
It grew into a steadfast tree. 
Upon that solitary place 
Its verdure threw adorning grace : 
The mating birds became its guests, 
And sang its praises from their nests. 
Would’st know the moral of the rhyme ? 
Behold the heavenly light, and climb — 
To every dungeon comes a ray 
Of God’s interminable day. 
THE IVY. 
BARTON. 
Hast thou seen, in winter’s stormiest day, 
The trunk of a blighted oak, 
Not dead, but sinking in slow decay 
Beneath time’s resistless stroke, 
