Philip James Bailey

For ivy climbs the crumbling hall
To decorate decay.

For ivy climbs the crumbling hall
To decorate decay.

Poets are all who love,--who feel great truths,
And tell them.

Poets are all who love,--who feel great truths,
And tell them.

Both man and womankind belie their nature
When they are not kind.

Both man and womankind belie their nature
When they are not kind.

The beautiful are never desolate;
But some one alway loves them--God or man.
If man abandons, God read more

The beautiful are never desolate;
But some one alway loves them--God or man.
If man abandons, God himself takes them.

Ask not of me, love, what is love?
Ask what is good of God above;
Ask of read more

Ask not of me, love, what is love?
Ask what is good of God above;
Ask of the great sum what is light;
Ask what is darkness of the night;
Ask sin of what may be forgiven;
Ask what is happiness of heaven;
Ask what is folly of the crowd;
Ask what is fashion of the shroud;
Ask what is sweetness of thy kiss;
Ask of thyself what beauty is.