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.
Nature poetry- finest in direct experience. I wonder where the author was when he wrote this poem? In the English countryside? the change of season in which he has viewed these same moments, same trees...but in the winter these beautiful blossoms are no more less exciting and loveliest...so many years he has gained repetition of sight, smell and observation to come up with this one beautiful poem. A poem that has aged with each year of the mind.
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