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 the 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 may still leave thy garland green. 

This entry was posted on Friday, September 22nd, 2017 at 10:26 am. Both comments and pings are currently closed.