LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP
Love is like the wild rose-brier;
Friendship like the holly-tree.
The holly is dark when the rose-brier blooms,
But which will bloom most constantly?
The wild rose-brier is sweet in spring,
Its summer blossoms scent the air;
Yet wait till winter comes again,
And who will call the wild-brier 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.