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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