78 THE IVY-BUSH. 
Many and many a year I wis, 
The tree has throve ere it grew to this! 
Many a year has tried its speed, 
Since this old bush was an ivy-seed ; 
And the woodman’s children that were then, 
Long years ago were ancient men, 
And now no more on earth are seen; 
But the ivy-bush is hale and green, 
And ere it sinks in slow decay, 
Many years to come will have passed away. 
All round about ’mong its twisting boughs 
There’s many an owl doth snugly house, 
Warm feathered o’er, yet none can see 
How they winking sit in the ivy-tree, 
For the leaves are thick as they can be. 
But at fall of night, when the stars come out, 
The old owls begin to move about; 
And the ivy-bush, like a busy hive, 
Within its leaves is all alive; 
And were you here you would declare, 
That the very bush began to stare, 
For in the dusk of leaves dark-green, 
The owl-eyes look out fixed and keen; 
