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.
A. E. Housman (1859–1936)
Very seldom do I post something so well known, but I saw a cherry in resplendent bloom this morning and this poem by Housman (one of the few I’ve ever memorized) sang so loud I thought I’d see if you heard it…