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 thats not ill) when twisted round a comb. E. B. BrowningAurora Leigh. Bk. II.
Oh, a dainty plant is the ivy green, That creepeth oer 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. DickensPickwick. Ch. VI.
On my velvet couch reclining, Ivy leaves my brow entwining, While my soul expands with glee, What are kings and crowns to me? MooreOdes of Anacreon. Ode XLVIII.