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.
Apparently I am drawn to sonnets that have the Shakespearian rhyme scheme. I love how this poem flows and it comes easy to read. Housman talks about how he is 70 years old and how he will never be 20 again. He remembers the cherry trees covered in snow. I am not 100% sure if my take is correct but thats what i got from it.
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