Is hung with bloom along the bough,
About the woodlands I will go
Wearing white for Eastertide.
About the woodlands I will go
It only leaves me fifty more.
Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Fifty springs are little room,
Twenty will not come again,
And stands about the woodland ride
And take from seventy springs a score,
To see the cherry hung with snow.
And stands about the woodland ride
Is hung with bloom along the bough,
It only leaves me fifty more.
Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
To see the cherry hung with snow.
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,
And since to look at things in bloom
Fifty springs are little room,
Wearing white for Eastertide.
And since to look at things in bloom
Now, of my threescore years and ten,
Now, of my threescore years and ten,