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 the 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 may still leave thy garland green