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.
Walking In Snow
Walking In snow Poem
December By Drew Osmond
Never Have I felt a December
So cold, so lonely.
The walk along the lake,
That changed a fate
The stumble in the snow,
I didn’t let go.
Greater Love by Wilfred Owen
Greater Love poem by Wilfred Owen
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