Love and Friendship
Love is like the wild
rose-briar,
Friendship like the
holly-tree—
The holly is dark when the
rose-briar blooms
But which will bloom most
constantly?
The wild rose-briar is sweet
in spring,
Its summer blossoms scent the
air;
Yet wait till winter comes
again
And who will call the
wild-briar fair?
Then scorn the silly
rose-wreath now
And deck thee with the holly’s
sheen,
That when December blights thy
brow
He still may leave thy garland
green.
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