A Gift Of Winter Roses

There is a temple carved in stone,
Where the Druids gather their mistletoe,
Burn the yule log from the great forest,
And celebrate the Winter Solstice.

Oh Alban Arthuan we call on thee,
To end the month of the Elder tree,
As we change the guard of Annwn,
To let the month of the Birch begin.

Low lying sun of the winter skies,
Be reborn, once more to rise,
New life spring forth from sacred wells,
On the tolling of the solstice bells.

The Pole Star sits upon his perch,
As snowflakes fall upon the Earth,
To lay their blanket softly down,
And cover the hallowed virgin ground.

I bring a gift of Winter Roses to thee,
Offer a kiss 'neath the Mistletoe tree,
And adorn your hair with Holly berries,
In this celebration of Winter's Solstice.

The Druids from the circular stones,
Have watched the dawning of this morn,
To ring out the old and ring in the new,
They danced beneath the Solstice Moon.

Jack Frost paints his crystal windows,
Among the streams and waters, shallow,
'Neath the winter sun the Mother bears,
On this the shortest day of the year.

Holly and Ivy kneel before the Greenman,
Paying homage to the great Oak King,
As waxen candles burn their flame,
In this triumphant Yultide morn.

Hark, the bells do ring with joy,
The new year born, to be employed,
In the service of the Mother's womb,
The old year lays inside her tomb.

I bring a gift of Winter Roses to thee,
And offer a kiss 'neath the Mistletoe tree,
And adorn your hair with Holly berries,
In this celebration of Winter's Solstice.