"Loveliest of trees, the cherry now Is hing with bloom along the bough, And stands about the woodland ride Wearing white for Eastertide. Now, of my three score years and 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 years are little room, About the woodlands I will go, To see the cherry hung with snow, —From_ "A Shropshire Lad" by A. E. Hausman.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.