Loveliest of Trees, the Cherry Now

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 springs are little room,


About the woodlands I will go


To see the cherry hung with snow.