Threading its noiseless way among fair things
Love-chosen to make beautiful my room,
The ivy spreads its tender living gloom,
Darkening and brightening the wall; now clings
Closely around some picture, and now swings
Some airy shoot of tremulous young bloom
Into the freer sunlight; till the doom
Of their slow silent fate together brings
At last the branches that for long years went
Their single, separate ways. Did no swift thrill