Plume et parchemin

Emily Brontë (1818-1848)

               Love and Friendship

    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 holly's sheen,
    That, when December blights thy brow,
        He still may leave thy garland green.