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.
This poem is featured in our selection of Poetry for Students and 100 Great Poems.
Return to the A. E. Housman library , or . . . Read the next poem; A Shropshire Lad - IV - Reveille