A poem by A.E. Houseman
…
LOVELIEST of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough,
And stands about the woodland ride
Wearing white for Eastertide.
…
Now, of my threescore years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,
It only leaves me fifty more.
…
And since to look at things in bloom
Fifty sprigs are little room,
About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.
…







