Creeping where no life is seen,
A rare old plant is the ivy green.
Whole ages have fled, and their works decayed,
And nations have scattered been;
But the stout old ivy shall never fade
From its hale and hearty green.
The brave old plant in its lonely days
Shall fatten upon the past;
For the stateliest building man can raise
Is the ivy's food at last.
Creeping where no life is seen,
A rare old plant is the ivy green.
CHARLES DICKENS.
THE NOBLE NATURE.
"The Noble Nature," by Ben Jonson (1574-1637), needs no plea. A small
virtue well polished is better than none.
It is not growing like a tree
In bulk doth make man better be;
Or standing long an oak, three hundred year
To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sear
A lily of a day
Is fairer far in May,
Although it fall and die that night,--
It was the plant and flower of light.
In small proportions we just beauties see;
And in short measures life may perfect be.
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