Arthur Somervell — Loveliest of Trees

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