“Love and Friendship” by Emily Brontë

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.

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