Love and Friendship
Love is like the wild rose briar,
Friendship like the holly–tree
The holly tree 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 the winter comes again
And who will call the wild–briar fair?
Then scorn the silly rose–wreath now
And deck thee with holly’s sheen,
That when December
Blights thy brow
He may still leave the garland green.
By Emily Bronte. Continue reading
