Apple Tree by Thomas Rowland Hughes

In bloom my garden apple tree
A marvel of blossom is to me;
A tree of snow near the window panes,
Where light on peace of nightfall rains;
As sheep’s wool white,
Or sunset alight,
Was ever a tree so shapely and bright?

That’s what all people love to see-
The beauty of my apple tree;
But as they praise it to the skies
The salt tears gather in my eyes,
For the boughs bend
Over my friend,
Buried, but faithful to me to the end.

Beauty explodes through boughs of grace
Above my old dog’s burial place,
Flame-coloured whiteness, white as snow,
With redness of dawn and fire’s glow-
I would rejoice
To give from choice
These, but to hear once more my old dog’s voice.


Date: 1948 (original in Welsh); 198? (translated into English)

By: Thomas Rowland Hughes (1903-1949)

Translated by: Glyn Jones (1905-1995)

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