Phrase Exercise.
1. General conformation.—2. Aquatic tribes.—3. Bleak coast.—4. Wild parts.—5. Odd fashion.—6. Ludicrous sight.—7. Furry quadrupeds.—8. Delicate morsels.—9. Crafty nature.—10. Minute air-hole.—11. Differ in size.—12. Much prized.
XXXIII.—THE IVY GREEN.
Charles Dickens.
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.
The wall must be crumbled, the stone decayed,
To pleasure his dainty whim;
And the mouldering dust that years have made
Is a merry meal for him.
Creeping where no life is seen,
A rare old plant is the Ivy Green.
Fast he stealeth on, though he wears no wings,
And a staunch old heart has he;
How closely he twineth, how tight he clings
To his friend, the huge Oak-tree!
And slyly he traileth along the ground,
And his leaves he gently waves,
As he joyously hugs and crawleth around
The rich mould of dead men’s graves.
Creeping where grim death has been,
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 on, where time has been,
A rare old plant is the Ivy Green.
XXXIV.—THE SEA.
Bryan Waller Procter.
The Sea! the Sea! the open Sea!
The blue, the fresh, the ever free!
Without a mark, without a bound,
It runneth the earth’s wide regions round;
It plays with the clouds; it mocks the skies;
Or like a cradled creature lies.
I’m on the Sea! I’m on the Sea!
I am where I would ever be,
With the blue above, and the blue below,
And silence whereso’er I go:
If a storm should come, and awake the deep,
What matter? I shall ride and sleep.
I love, oh how I love, to ride
On the fierce, foaming, bursting tide,
When every mad wave drowns the moon,
Or whistles aloft its tempest tune,
And tells how goeth the world below,
And why the south-west blasts do blow!
I never was on the dull, tame shore,
But I loved the great Sea more and more,
And backward flew to her billowy breast,
Like a bird that seeketh its mother’s nest:
And a mother she was and is to me;
For I was born on the open Sea!
The waves were white, and red the morn,
In the noisy hour when I was born;
And the whale it whistled, the porpoise rolled,
And the dolphins bared their backs of gold;
And never was heard such an outcry wild
As welcomed to life the Ocean-child.
I’ve lived since then, in calm and strife,
Full fifty summers a sailor’s life,
With wealth to spend, and power to range,
But never have sought, nor sighed for change;
And Death, whenever he comes to me,
Shall come on the wild unbounded sea!