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IVY
[ Also see Plants ]

For ivy climbs the crumbling hall
  To decorate decay.
      - Philip James Bailey, Festus
         (sc. A Large Party and Entertainment)

That headlong ivy! not a leaf will grow
  But thinking of a wreath, . . .
    I like such ivy; bold to leap a height
      'Twas strong to climb! as good to grow on graves
        As twist about a thyrsus; pretty too
          (And that's not ill) when twisted round a comb.
      - Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Aurora Leigh
         (bk. II)

Wall must get the weather stain
  Before they grow the ivy.
      - Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Aurora Leigh
         (bk. VIII)

The rugged trees are mingling
  Their flowery sprays in love;
    The ivy climbs the laurel
      To clasp the boughs above.
      - William Cullen Bryant, The Serenade

As creeping ivy clings to wood or stone,
  And hides the ruin that it feeds upon.
      - William Cowper, The Progress of Error
         (l. 285)

Oh, a dainty plant is the ivy green,
  That creepeth o'er ruins old!
    Of right choice food are his meals I ween,
      In his cell so lone and cold.
        . . . .
          Creeping where no life is seen,
            A rare old plant is the ivy green.
      - Charles Dickens,
        The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club
         (ch. VI)

Oh! how could fancy crown with thee,
  In ancient days, the God of Wine,
    And bid thee at the banquet be
      Companion of the vine?
        Ivy! thy home is where each sound
          Of revelry hath long been o'er;
            Where song and beaker once went round,
              But now are known no more.
      - Mrs. Felicia D. Hemans

Direct
  The clasping ivy where to climb.
      - John Milton, Paradise Lost
         (bk. IX, l. 216)

On my velvet couch reclining,
  Ivy leaves my brow entwining,
    While my soul expands with glee,
      What are kings and crowns to me?
      - Thomas Moore, Odes of Anacreon
         (ode XLVIII)

Where round some mould'ring tow'r pale ivy creeps,
  And low-brow'd rocks hang nodding o'er the deeps.
      - Alexander Pope, Eloisa to Abelard (l. 243)

Bring, bring the madding Bay, the drunken wine;
  The creeping, dirty, courtly Ivy join.
      - Alexander Pope, The Dunciad
         (bk. I, l. 303)

Round broken columns clasping ivy twin'd.
      - Alexander Pope, Windsor Forest (l. 69)


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