The Ivy Climbs Abysmal Pt VII
The ivy climbs abysmal,
Over all the garden’s span,
From lofty walls,
The ivy falls,
Along it crawls,
To darksome halls,
Ascending where it can.
The ivy is pernicious,
With a mouldering effect,
Its clinging force,
Without remorse,
Its fetid source,
In steady course,
Through vistas of neglect.
The garden is infected,
And the vine in hunger spreads,
The waxy gloss,
A spreading dross,
Just as the moss,
A sign of loss,
In undulating threads.
The stony brickwork lacquered,
In a darkness of decay,
The colours gone,
Tis deathly wan,
The stricken sun,
In dread begun,
In horror borne away.
The rodents spread endemic,
And the rats in shelter hide,
In shadows fell,
A lowly hell,
E’en in the well,
The ivy’s spell,
As ghosts of yore reside.
The ivy is undying,
And it lives by other’s death,
A poison vial,
In deadly style,
Sent to defile,
And life beguile,
To stay the very breath.
The ivy is triumphant,
And the tapestry is rife,
The clinging hands,
In sickly strands,
In malice lands,
With dread commands!
Antipathy to life!
🌿
