9.29.2010
9.19.2010
9.13.2010
Loveliest of trees, the cherry now |
Is hung with bloom along the bough, |
And stands about the woodland ride |
Wearing white for Eastertide.
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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
A.E. Housman
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