Oh once I heard so far away
That in my ears it still does ring
This mannish song to you I say
That sad and seeming-wise did sing:

"Love is like a wild rose briar
Friendship like the holly tree.
The holly is dark when the rose briar blooms
But which blooms most constantly?

"The wild rose briar is sweet in spring.
Its summer blossoms scent the air
Yet wait til 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 the garland green."

But men know not the wisest way
For they but shortly fare the land
They pass like breath and slip away
And love like rainfall into sand.

But let the rose briar sweetly grow
About the holly tree entwine
That when the briar rose is no more
The holly leaves, still greening, shine.

Choose not the holly or the rose
But let the holly roses bear,
So when the doors to summer close
The sleeping rose is cradled there.