This is briony-root carved like a mandrake into the shape of a man's legs.
"By What Authority?"
Robert Hugh Benson
Suffice it that, as all things must decay, The hempen rope at length was worn away, Unravelled at the end, and, strand by strand, Loosened and wasted in the ringer's hand, Till one, who noted this in passing by, Mended the rope with braids of briony, So that the leaves and tendrils of the vine Hung like a votive garland at a shrine.
"The Complete Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow"
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
But ere he reached the belfry's light arcade He saw, or thought he saw, beneath its shade, No shape of human form of woman born, But a poor steed dejected and forlorn, Who with uplifted head and eager eye Was tugging at the vines of briony.
"The Complete Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow"
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow