Loveliest of Trees

Loveliest of Trees, the cherry now
is hung with bloom along the bough,
And stands about the woodlands 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 thing in bloom.
Fifty springs are little room,
About woodlands I go
To see the cherry hung with snow