
THE BOUQUET. 
IVY. 
HEDERA. 
Wedded Love. 
HAvzE you e’er seen the ivy clinging 
Round fragments broken and decayed, 
As if its mantling wreaths ’t were flinging, 
To hide the breaches time has made? 
O, thus, should care or sorrow wound thee, 
Be friendship’s soft endearments thine ; 
And fondest sympathy around thee 
As close her thousand tendrils twine. 
And when, at last, each youthful token 
Shall yield to wasting and decay, 
And thou, like arch or column broken, 
Shalt feel proud manhood’s strength give way ; 
O, then may love, by time unshaken, 
Around its earliest prop still cling! 
(For when was mouldering arch forsaken 
By the fond wreath, it caused to spring?) 
Still may one smile, as moonbeam tender, 
E’en to the last, unwearied shine ; 
Gilding thy manhood’s waning splendor — 
And, O, may that one smile be mine! 
Poetry for the Young. 


