LOVING ruins, old and gray,
O'er which ages pass away.
Clinging to the cold, dark stone,
All deserted and alone,
Lonely Ivy!
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Towering up so tall and high,
Reaching ever towards the sky
With the soft green of thy leaves,
Which stern winter ne'er bereaves,
Lovely Ivy.
Clinging to the dark, rich mould,
Twining round the ruins old,
In the sunny clime of Rome
Towering towards the Pantheon's dome,
Classic Ivy!
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