Loveliest that trees, the cherry nowIs hung through bloom along the bough,And stands around the woodland drive Wearing white because that Eastertide.

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Now, of mine threescore years and also ten,Twenty will certainly not come again,And take it from seventy springs a score,It only leaves me fifty more.

And due to the fact that to watch at things in bloomFifty springs are little room,About the woodlands I will go To check out the cherry hung through snow.


Alfred Edward Housman was born in Fockbury, Worcestershire, England, on march 26, 1859. He published two volumes of poetry during his life, includingA Shropshire Lad (1896), which was widely read during world War I.

When ns was one-and-twenty ns heard a wise man say, ‘Give crowns and also pounds and also guineas however not her heart away; provide pearls away and also rubies however keep your an intricate free.’ yet I to be one-and-twenty, No use to speak to me. When I to be one-and-twenty i heard him speak again,‘The heart the end of the bosom to be never provided in vain; ’Tis paid with sighs a plenty and also sold for countless rue.’ and also I to be two-and-twenty, and also oh, ’tis true, ’tis true.

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White in the moon the lengthy road lies, The moon stands empty above; White in the moon the lengthy road lies that leads me from mine love. Still hangs the hedge without a gust, Still, tho the shadows stay: my feet upon the moonlit dust seek the ceaseless way. The world is round, so travellers tell, and straight though reach the track, Trudge on, trudge on, ’twill all be well, The means will overview one back. But ere the circle homeward hies Far, much must it remove: White in the moon the lengthy road lies the leads me from mine love.

Oh who is the young sinner through the handcuffs ~ above his wrists?And what has he to be after the they groan and also shake your fists?And wherefore is he wearing together a conscience-stricken air?Oh they"re acquisition him to jail for the colour of his hair."Tis a dead to person nature, together a head the hair as his;In the an excellent old time "twas hanging for the colour the it is;Though hanging isn"t bad enough and also flaying would certainly be fairFor the nameless and also abominable color of his hair. Oh a deal of pains he"s taken and a pretty price he"s paidTo hide his vote or dye it of a mentionable shade;But they"ve traction the beggar"s hat off for the civilization to see and stare,And they"re haling him come justice for the colour of his hair. Currently "tis oakum because that his fingers and also the treadmill because that his feetAnd the quarry-gang top top Portland in the cold and also in the heat,And in between his spells that labour in the time he has to spareHe have the right to curse the God the made him for the color of his hair.