Worthy is she to bear the crown;
_Veni coronaberis_.

IVY is soft and meek of speech,
Against all woe she bringeth bliss;
Happy is he that may her reach:
_Veni coronaberis_.

IVY is green, of color bright,
Of all trees the chief she is;
And that I prove will now be right:
_Veni coronaberis_.

IVY, she beareth berries black;
God grant to all of us his bliss,
For then we shall nothing lack:
_Veni coronaberis_.

Very quaint is the following fragment:

Holly and Ivy made a great party,
Who should have the mastery
In lands where they go.

Then spake Holly, 'I am fierce and jolly,
I will have the mastery
In lands where we go.'

Then spake Ivy, 'I am loud and proud,
And I will have the mastery
In lands where we go.'

Then spake Holly, and bent him down on his knee,
'I pray thee, gentle Ivy,
Essay me no villany
In lands where we go.'

_Old Christmas Carol._

'Good wine needs no bush,' says an old proverb; but is it generally
known that the 'bush' in question, used as a sign for wine, was a bunch
of Ivy? The custom went from Greece to Italy, from Italy to Germany, and
so on westward. Very different is this use of the evergreen vine in
taverns, from that of adorning churches--the one meaning a mere
invitation to drink, while the other reminds the believer that, as the
Ivy lives through the bitter winter, so shall our souls endure through
cold death and live again in Christ, even as He passed through the grave
to live in 'eternal bloom.' Yet to those who have mastered the legend of
Bacchus, there is no absolute difference between the two, when studied
with regard to their origin. It is worth remarking that among the
ancients the impression prevailed that the Ivy was the plant of
joyousness, of triumphant strength, and of _life_, even as Bacchus was
the lord of joy. And at a later day, long after the association with
genial Bacchus was forgotten, the Ivy in popular lay and legend, and
quaint custom and holiday rite, still by some inexplicable association
always seemed to the multitude to be sweet and gentle, noble and dear.
It is such a feeling of love, derived from old traditions and old
worships, long forgotten, which makes the stork and the house-cricket
and the robin and dragon-fly and swallow so dear to children and grown
people in many par