Loveliest of Trees

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough 
And stands about the woodland ride
Dressed in white for Eastertide. 

Now, of my three score years and ten,
Twenty will not come again, 
And take from seventy years 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.