XIV.—IVY LEAVES.
I gathered from a grave1
Where, plucked fom mine, death cast2
A fair green life,—long years3
Had healed the pain at last,—4
Two dark and glossy ivy leaves, that grew5
Where once my vain tears fell as thick as dew.6
To keep my ivy leaves7
Front a too swift decay,8
I set their slender stalks9
In water, day by day10
Renewed, and for the love I bore to them,11
Spring’s brightest blossoms faded on the stem.12
I looked that they should die,13
And with a gladdened thrill14
Of wonder saw them keep15
This faultless freshness ; still16
A little paler grew the glossy green,17
And light threads floating from each stem were seen.18
And as the filmy threads19
To rootlets spread, I knew20
My ivy leaves would live,21
Since severed still they grew.22
From life’s sweet workings thus rebuke I got23
For loveless heart and long-lamented lot.24