Ivy

ivy, evergreen climbing plant

Ivy is a genus of 15 species of climbing or ground-creeping evergreen woody plants in the family Araliaceae, native to the Atlantic Islands, western, central and southern Europe, northwestern Africa and across central-southern Asia east to Japan. On suitable surfaces (trees and rock faces), they are able to climb to at least 25–30 metres above the basal ground level.

Go into the garden. Go under the ivy, Under the leaves, Away from the party. ~ Kate Bush

Quotes

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Ivy climbs the crumbling hall To decorate decay. ~ Philip James Bailey
 
I like such ivy, bold to leap a height Twas strong to climb! as good to grow on graves As twist about a thyrsus… ~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning
 
Creeping ivy clings to wood or stone, And hides the ruin that it feeds upon. ~ William Cowper
 
Pluck an ivy branch for me
Grown old before my time. ~ Christina Rossetti
 
Direct The clasping ivy where to climb ~ John Milton
  • This little girl inside me
    Is retreating to her favourite place.
    Go into the garden.
    Go under the ivy,
    Under the leaves,
    Away from the party.
    Go right to the rose.
    Go right to the white rose
    (For me.)
  • Oh roses for the flush of youth,
    And laurel for the perfect prime;
    But pluck an ivy branch for me
    Grown old before my time.
  • The holly and the ivy,
    When they are both full grown,
    Of all the trees that are in the wood
    The holly bears the crown.
    • Song The Holly and the Ivy.
  • I see that God is in all creatures, man and beast, fish and fowl,
    and every green thing from the highest cedar to the ivy on the wall;
    and that God is the life and being of them all, and that God doth really dwell,
    and (if you will) personally (if he may admit so low an expression) in them all,
    and hath his being no where else out of the creatures . . .

Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations (1922)

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Quotes reported in Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations (1922), p. 402.
  • Well might the thoughtful race of old
    With ivy twine the head
    Of him they hailed their god of wine —
    Thank God ! the lie is dead;
    For ivy climbs the crumbling hall
    To decorate decay;
    And spreads its dark deceitful pall
    To hide what wastes away.
  • That headlong ivy! not a leaf will grow
    But thinking of a wreath,
    Large leaves, smooth leaves,
    Serrated like my vines, and half as green.
    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 that's not ill) when twisted round a comb.
  • The rugged trees are mingling
    Their flowery sprays in love,
    The ivy climbs the laurel
    To clasp the boughs above.
  • As creeping ivy clings to wood or stone,
    And hides the ruin that it feeds upon.
  • 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
    * * * *
    Creeping where no life is seen,
    A rare old plant is the ivy green
  • Direct
    The clasping ivy where to climb.
  • On my velvet couch reclining,
    Ivy leaves my brow entwining.
    While my soul expands with glee,
    What are kings and crowns to me?
    • Moore, Odes of Anacreon, Ode XLVIII.
  • Bring, bring the madding Bay, the drunken vine,
    The creeping, dirty, courtly Ivy join
  • Round broken columns clasping ivy twin'd
  • Where round some mould'ring tow'r pale ivy creeps,
    And low-brow'd rocks hang nodding o'er the deeps
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