Cherry

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.

Poem: A. E. Housman;      Tree : Mundy Playing Field