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.
poem by Emily Jane Brontë
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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 the holly's sheen,
That, when December blights thy brow,
He still may leave thy garland green.
poem by Emily Brontë from Selections from the literary remains of Emily and Anne Brontë (1850)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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What Real Friendship Is
Friendship sails 'cross all kinds of seas-
The calm, the stirred, the galed...
Serene, difficult and outright stormy...
But true friendship-it never fails;
You come together open-hearted-
With profound respect and devotion-
Tied together with a common thread-
That can sustain any waves of the ocean;
The mark of true friendship stands...
Even when ones skies turn grey-
It is not just partial to sunny fair weather...!
Or absolute attendence come what may! ;
For oft' times we get side tracked...
From our own personal tragedies or worse...
Leaving us sometimes absent but never forgetting...
Our true friends in lifes most gifted verse;
For true friendship is not picky-!
It doesn't correct, fault find or critisize...!
It is a blessing as sure as Gods love-
A most cherished gift in our lives;
May 24,2010
Love And Friendship
By Emily Bronte
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 hollys sheen
That when December blights thy brow
He may still leave thy garland green.
poem by Theodora Onken
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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?
quote by Emily Bronte
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lovers Or Friends?
Love is like a wild red rose
Friendship, like an apple tree
The apple tree is dark when the red rose blooms
But which will bloom predominantly?
The wild red rose is sweet in Spring
Its Summer blossoms scent the air
Yet wait 'til Winter's finally here,
Will the red rose still be there?
poem by Gloraly Gomez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Lily Has A Smooth Stalk
The lily has a smooth stalk,
Will never hurt your hand;
But the rose upon her briar
Is lady of the land.
There's sweetness in an apple tree,
And profit in the corn;
But lady of all beauty
Is a rose upon a thorn.
When with moss and honey
She tips her bending briar,
And half unfolds her glowing heart,
She sets the world on fire.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Breath Of The Briar
I
O briar-scents, on yon wet wing
Of warm South-west wind brushing by,
You mind me of the sweetest thing
That ever mingled frank and shy:
When she and I, by love enticed,
Beneath the orchard-apples met,
In equal halves a ripe one sliced,
And smelt the juices ere we ate.
II
That apple of the briar-scent,
Among our lost in Britain now,
Was green of rind, and redolent
Of sweetness as a milking cow.
The briar gives it back, well nigh
The damsel with her teeth on it;
Her twinkle between frank and shy,
My thirst to bite where she had bit.
poem by George Meredith
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A Song Of Roses
'Tis time to sing of roses: of roses all ablow,
To every vagrant passing breeze they dip a courtesy low,
'Tis time to sing of roses! for June is here, you know.
One song for true love's roses of sweetest deepest red,
Some heart will wear you faithfully when life itself hath fled,
And for the white rose sing a song--the white rose for the dead.
And ah! the yellow roses, of brightest, lightest gold,
King Midas must have touched their leaves in mystic days of old,
Or they were made of sunshine, and gilded, fold by fold.
And the roadside rose, sweet-briar, we would remember thee
And the cinnamon rose that evermore enthralls each passing bee,
You old, old-fashioned roses, a-growing wild and free.
'Tis time to sing of roses! of roses all ablow!
They come again, as sweet, my dear, as those of long ago.
'Tis time to sing of roses! for June is here you know.
poem by Virna Sheard
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Barbriallen
It was in the merry month of May
When green bugs were a-swelling
Sweet William on his death bed lay
For the love of Barbriallen
He sent his servant to the town
The place where she'd been dwelling
Say master dear has sent me here
If your name be Barbriallen
And slowly, slowly she got up
And slowly she went to him
And all she said when she got there
Young man I think you are dying
Oh, don't you remember the other day
When we where in a tavern
You drank your health to the ladies there
And you slided Barbriallen
He turned his face unto the wall
He turned his back upon her
Adieu, adieu to all my friends
Be kind to Barbriallen
She looked to the east, she looked to the west
She saw his corpse a-coming
Oh, put him down for me she cried
That I may gaze upon him
The more she looked, the more she grieved
She bursted it out in crying
Oh, pick me up and carry me home
For I feel like I am dying
They buried sweet Willy in the old church yard
And Barbara in the new one
From Willy's grave there grew a rose
From Barbara's a green briar
They grew and they grew on the old church wall
And could not grow no higher
And there they tied in a true love's knot
The rose bush and the briar
song performed by by Simon & Garfunkel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Wayward Rose
Mischievous rose from the rose-tree swaying,
Can I not bind thee nor hold thee?
Can I not weave thee nor fold thee
In with thy sisters to staying?
Vain is my passion or praying,
Rose from the rose-tree swaying.
Wayward sweet rose from the rose-tree swinging,
Can I not pass thee, forget thee?
Can I not see to regret thee?
In—'mid thy kindred's close ringing,
Out—to my heart she comes winging,
Rose from the rose-tree swinging.
Cruel red rose from the rose-tree swaying,
Ever to worship thee, throne thee,
Never to lose thee or own thee,
Thy beauty to keep me from straying,
Thy thorns for my passionate praying,
Rose from the rose-tree swaying.
poem by Dora Sigerson Shorter
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The Fruit Of The Wild Rose
Goodnight my love
Im so alone
And so surrounded
By your sweet memory
I cannot sleep
For all these dreams
They come to play
Till dawn comes stealin them away..
The fruit of the wild rose
Hangs here with summer gone
Voluptuous crimson
As the days become colder
The fruit of the wild rose
In a warmer country
Where the sea meets the land
You may walk with your baby
In the afternoon
Perhaps some aroma
From a street caf
Might sadden your eyes
Carry you away
The fruit of the wild rose
Sweet and so sour on the tongue
Swollen and crimson
As the light fades and shortens
The thorny wild rose
She gave me a summer but shes gone
As england faces the winter
In your eyes, in your mind, in your mind
Clearer than a photograph
No passing of time
Ever could fade
You and i
Shimmering ghostly
Like a wild garden from another life
Will you throw your arm
Turn your body round
Breathe a sudden sigh
Wherever you lie sleeping
Stir your hips
Feel the seed inside so sweet
Dreaming westbound waves
And a man comin back from the sea...
Dreaming
Dance for me rose
song performed by by Marillion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Waterfall and The Eglantine
'Begone, thou fond presumptuous Elf,'
Exclaimed an angry Voice,
'Nor dare to thrust thy foolish self
Between me and my choice!'
A small Cascade fresh swoln with snows
Thus threatened a poor Briar-rose,
That, all bespattered with his foam,
And dancing high and dancing low,
Was living, as a child might know,
In an unhappy home.
II
'Dost thou presume my course to block?
Off, off! or, puny Thing!
I'll hurl thee headlong with the rock
To which thy fibres cling.'
The Flood was tyrannous and strong;
The patient Briar suffered long,
Nor did he utter groan or sigh,
Hoping the danger would be past;
But, seeing no relief, at last,
He ventured to reply.
III
'Ah!' said the Briar, 'blame me not;
Why should we dwell in strife?
We who in this sequestered spot
Once lived a happy life!
You stirred me on my rocky bed--
What pleasure through my veins you spread
The summer long, from day to day,
My leaves you freshened and bedewed;
Nor was it common gratitude
That did your cares repay.
IV
'When spring came on with bud and bell,
Among these rocks did I
Before you hang my wreaths to tell
That gentle days were nigh!
And in the sultry summer hours,
I sheltered you with leaves and flowers;
And in my leaves--now shed and gone,
The linnet lodged, and for us two
Chanted his pretty songs, when you
Had little voice or none.
V
'But now proud thoughts are in your breast--
What grief is mine you see,
Ah! would you think, even yet how blest
Together we might be!
Though of both leaf and flower bereft,
Some ornaments to me are left--
Rich store of scarlet hips is mine,
With which I, in my humble way,
Would deck you many a winter day,
A happy Eglantine!'
VI
What more he said I cannot tell,
The Torrent down the rocky dell
Came thundering loud and fast;
I listened, nor aught else could hear;
The Briar quaked--and much I fear
Those accents were his last.
poem by William Wordsworth
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Holly Would
(myles goodwyn)
Published by slalom publishing co. - bmi
Back when I was in high school
I was lookin for it all the time
Until I met this sweet young thing
And she could see what was on my mind
And girls used to tease me
And say well I dont know if I should
But I never really cared that much
Cause I knew that holly would
And holly would drive me crazy
Holly would get it on
And holly would love to please me
Holly girl where have you gone
She brought me to her side and said
Myles, I dont wanna cause a scene
But come with me and Ill show you boy
What 7 up really means
She wasnt all that pretty
And the fact is she was a mess
But she had the right attitude
And I liked holly best
And holly would drive me crazy
Holly would get it on
Holly would love to please me
Holly girl where have you gone, yeah
Shed come into the school yard
To show you a better time
Shed let you smoke her cigarettes
And she always had some wine
She was really somethin
The fact is she was a mess
But she had the right attitude
And I liked holly best
And holly would drive me crazy
Holly would get it on
And holly would love to tease me
Holly girl where have you gone
Holly would drive me crazy
Holly would get it on
And holly would love to tease me
Holly girl where have you gone
song performed by by April Wine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wild Irish Rose
In a field by a river
My love and I did lie
And on my naked shoulder
She too proud to cry
She said that I must leave her
An icy tear she froze
How could I melt the heart
Of a wild irish rose
Well a gypsy she has made of me
A servent of the street
And back to bed Ive travelled
To taste a love as sweet
Well the heart it knows no reasons
And reason never knows
As I lie with them Im thinking
Of a wild irish rose
Well I saw the city of angels
It brought a devil out in me
And hells hotel on sunset
Showed a whore no mercy
As the orange sky was screaming
From the roof I let her go
These are the dizzying heights that brought me
My wild irish rose
Now red is the rose
That she layed on my grave
A life is what she wanted
And a life I surely gave
Like a hundred men before me
They lay lying here in rows
Young men, bloody
As a wild irish rose
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Wild Rose
The first wild rose in wayside hedge,
This year I wandering see,
I pluck, and send it as a pledge,
My own Wild Rose, to Thee.
For when my gaze first met thy gaze,
We were knee-deep in June:
The nights were only dreamier days,
And all the hours in tune.
I found thee, like the eglantine,
Sweet, simple, and apart;
And, from that hour, thy smile hath been
The flower that scents my heart.
And, ever since, when tendrils grace
Young copse or weathered bole
With rosebuds, straight I see thy face,
And gaze into thy soul.
A natural bud of love Thou art,
Where, gazing down, I view,
Deep hidden in thy fragrant heart,
A drop of heavenly dew.
Go, wild rose, to my Wild Rose dear;
Bid her come swift and soon.
O would that She were always here!
It then were always June.
poem by Alfred Austin
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A Rose Is, But A Rose
A Rose Is, But A Rose by Kenny Davis
A rose is, but a rose
Its illustrious petals has me drawn to her
With every one that blooms and blossoms I yearn for her
For with every one that drops and withers away I mourn for her
A rose is, but a rose
Holds such beauty like that of the Garden of Eden
Thanking god for the gift of this rose, I find myself pleading
Hoping that the beauty found in this rose is not misleading
A rose is, but a rose
With its true essence hidden under its thorns
Cherishing, treasuring, and loving it beyond its pain and scorn
Hoping that through all the love I show for her, that its spirit is reborn
A rose is, but a rose
Through the storms, finds the strength to continue to bloom
Where most would have been doomed to allow life’s rage to be consumed
Through my admiration of her creation send a sensation to have her faith in love renewed
A rose is, but a rose
Though there are many, none like her
Much like the fiery red of her petals, my love for her continues to burn
Blessing me with privilege caring for her, she allows me to shower my love for her in return
A rose is, but a rose
Gardening every inch of her nature overwhelmingly fills this void inside
I gained an everlasting love for life, when my world with hers collided
Much like a rose without water, without my rose, I would wither and die
© May 2011 k.davis
poem by Kenneth Davis
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Buy Me a Rose
Buy me a rose, Buy me a rose
Buy me sweet reasons to be forever close
Tender me with words propose
Wear my heart on your sleeves
for i am the rose you chose
Reveal your gentle pose
Make me your fair lady before chairs and doors
Buy me a rose, Buy me a rose
And out for a dozen for me he goes
Past mountain high and wild river flows
I must be i suppose
His romantic quest and cause
Buy me a rose, Buy me a rose
Venture deeper into me
make me eternally yours
Share with me the gift my belly grows
suddenly loving me his world not knows
And in to the distance sails as the new wind blows
Buy me a rose, Buy me a rose
Better yet maybe not
a precious one in me grows
poem by Wes Mbanje
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A Rose Has Thorns As Well As Honey
A rose has thorns as well as honey,
I'll not have her for love or money;
An iris grows so straight and fine,
That she shall be no friend of mine;
Snowdrops like the snow would chill me;
Nightshade would caress and kill me;
Crocus like a spear would fright me;
Dragon's-mouth might bark or bite me;
Convolvulus but blooms to die;
A wind-flower suggests a sigh;
Love-lies-bleeding makes me sad;
And poppy-juice would drive me mad: -
But give me holly, bold and jolly,
Honest, prickly, shining holly;
Pluck me holly leaf and berry
For the day when I make merry.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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To A Beautiful Child On Her Birthday With A Wreath Of Flowers
Whilst others give thee wond’rous toys,
Or jewels rich and rare,
I bring but flowers—more meet are they
For one so young and fair.
’Tis not because that snowy brow
Might with the lily vie,
Or violet match the starry glance
Of that dark, lustrous eye;
Nor yet because a brighter blush
E’en rose leaf never wore,
But ’tis that in their leaves lies hid
A rare and mystic lore.
And with its aid I now shall form
A wreath of flow’rets wild—
Graceful, and full of meaning sweet,
To deck thy brow, fair child!
The primrose, first, the emblem fit
Of budding, early youth;
The daisy in whose leaves we read
Pure innocence and truth.
The rosebud, sign of youthful charms,
We well may give to thee,
And with it join the sweet frail leaves
Of the shrinking sensitive tree.
And, tribute to thy modesty,
The violet emblem meet,—
Itself concealing, yet on all
Shedding its perfume sweet.
And for thy kind and gentle heart
We bring the jessamine,
To twine with ivy, ever green—
True friendship’s sacred sign.
Thy wreath is formed—of blossoms bright
I’ve twined each link, and, yet,
Another flower I still must add,
The fragrant mignonnette,
Which says “However great the charms
That to thy lot may fall
Thy qualities of heart and mind
By far surpass them all.”
Aye, be it thus, and ever may
This lovely wreath, as now—
Emblem of every precious gift—
Be fit to deck thy brow.
But, last and dearest, ’mid the buds
Of that bright varied lot
Must ever be, my gentle child,
The sweet forget-me-not!
poem by Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Just One Rose...
that's a homework i need you to tell me if i should hand it to the teacher or not...(:
just one rose, a pretty rose...
just one rose for me with no coze...
just one rose pure and true...
just one rose for me is all i can do...
just one rose somewhere out there...
just one rose for me to care...
just one rose when dark days prevail...
just one rose when people only use petrail...
just one rose and all the time...
just one rosefor me is a crime...
poem by rose of death XxX
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First rose
A heart of youthful year was yearning,
Crying out the pain; the burning
Tears would e’er remain until
An answer from the man would see them die.
A sympathetic mirror blessed her –
Softened up the curves, caressed her
Skin to help regain a calm –
Assuage a heaving breast and blushing eye.
And through a struggling mind, a chiming:
Someone at the door; the timing
Perfect and exquisite in the
Reconciliation of her woes.
She took the oak to make the parting,
‘Here! ’ a presentation startling.
Drawing deep through radiant lips, she
Kissed her very dream: a crimson rose.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
rose rose rose rose: : rose rose rose rose
poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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