At the edge of the field in a hedgerow so tangled, <br />So thick and so dense where the holly does grow, <br />Berries of scarlet are caught in the sunlight, <br />Its leaves sharp and shining and all is aglow. <br />The birds make their home inside <br />Safe and secure there, <br />They rest in peace and harmony <br />And all should do the same. <br /> <br />I cut several sprigs there to take home for Christmas, <br />To lay by the candle the season of love, <br />The berries the symbol the blood of our Saviour, <br />And life that he gave for all glories above. <br />The leaves like the crown he wore <br />Upon the wooden cross, <br />They mirror his eternal light <br />Beneath the burning flame. <br /> <br />At the edge of the field in a hedgerow so tangled, <br />So thick and so dense where the holly does stand, <br />The snowflakes start falling and rest on its leaves now, <br />So pure and so gentle like God's loving hand. <br />And I turn and I head for home <br />For now the day grows cold, <br />And look upon my holly sprigs <br />Such passion they do hold.<br /><br />ANDREW BLAKEMORE<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/holly-5/
