"Love is like the wild rose briar..."
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--