Poem by Emily Jane Brontë

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 contantly?

The wild-rose briar is sweet in the spring,
Its summer blossoms scent the air;
Yet wait till winter comes again
And who wil 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. 

1. Often Rebuked, Yet Always Back Returning
2. The Visionary
3. That Wind I Used to Hear It Swelling
4. Mild the Mist upon the Hill
5. The Wind Was Rough Which Tore

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