| C.N. Douglas, comp. Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical. 1917. | | | | Ivy |
| | | | 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. |
Dickens. | 1 |
| | For ivy climbs the crumbling hall |
| To decorate decay. |
Bailey. | 2 |
| | 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 |
| Or revelry hath long been o’er; |
| Where song and beaker once went round, |
| But now are known no more. |
Mrs. Hemans. | 3 |
| Come, ye cold winds, at January’s call, On whistling: wings, and with white flakes bestrew The earth. Ruskin. | 4 | | |
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