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.
Interpretation
The quote celebrates the resilience and beauty of ivy, symbolizing growth even in desolate places.
In this quote, Charles Dickens personifies the ivy plant, which thrives by creeping over ruins and isolated areas. It serves as a metaphor for resilience and the ability to find beauty and sustenance in seemingly lifeless environments, highlighting the purity and simplicity of nature's persistence.
In practice
This quote could be used in a speech about environmental conservation.
I recollected one story there was in the village, how that on a certain night in the year (it might be that very night for anything I knew), all the dead people came out of the ground and sat at the heads of their own graves till morning.
A silent look of affection and regard when all other eyes are turned coldly away-the consciousness that we possess the sympathy and affection of one being when all others have deserted us-is a hold, a stay, a comfort, in the deepest affliction, which no wealth could purchase, or power bestow.
Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts. I was better after I had cried, than before--more sorry, more aware of my own ingratitude, more gentle.
There are not a few among the disciples of charity who require, in their vocation, scarcely less excitement than the votaries of pleasure in theirs.
You might, from your appearance, be the wife of Lucifer,” said Miss Pross, in her breathing. “Nevertheless, you shall not get the better of me. I am an Englishwoman.
Christmas is a poor excuse every 25th of December to pick a man's pockets.
Every morning was a cheerful invitation to make my life of equal simplicity, and I may say innocence, with Nature herself.
The Cicada sing an endless song in the long grass, smells run along the earth and falling stars run over the sky, like tears over a cheek. You are the privileged person to whom everything is taken. The Kings of Tarshish shall bring gifts.
Yosemite Valley, to me, is always a sunrise, a glitter of green and golden wonder in a vast edifice of stone and space.
The sweet small clumsy feet of april came into the ragged meadow of my soul.
Labor is the only prayer that Nature answers: It is the only prayer that deserves an answer—good, honest, noble work.
Should you shield the canyons from the windstorms you would never see the true beauty of their carvings.
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