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.