It’s branches are arrayed in gold
It’s boughs the sight in winter greet.
With hues as bright, with leaves as green
As summer scatters on the scene.
* * * * * *
An angel mid the woods of May
Embroidered it with radiance gay-
That gossamer with gold bedight-
Those fires of God – those gems of light.
~from the Welsh of Dafydd ap Gwillym