Loveliest of Trees

A.E. Housman

​

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.

The Embankment

T. E. Hulme

​

Once, in finesse of fiddles found I ecstasy, 

In the flash of gold heels on the hard pavement. 

Now see I 

That warmth’s the very stuff of poesy. 

Oh, God, make small 

The old star-eaten blanket of the sky, 

That I may fold it round me and in comfort lie.