Love and Friendship

Love is like the wild rose-briar,

Friendship like the holly-tree —The holly is dark when the rose-briar

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

And who will call the wild-briar fair?

Then scorn the silly rose-wreath

And deck thee with the holly's sheen,

That when December blights thy

He may still leave thy garland green.