All About Books discussion
The Monday Poem (old)
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Loveliest of Trees by A.E. Housman (11/11/2013)
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What a lovely poem, really pretty!
I had trouble with the phrase 'Score Years'. Google helped me find the meaning of it. I liked the poem.......
Thank you. I'm really glad you're enjoying the poem.AE Housman is a favorite poet of mine. I like this poem because it brings to mind enjoying the moment (the "now"). Also, I love cherry trees in bloom. :D
I like this one, and it's actually quite nice to read it "out of season"; brightens up a drab November day.
I didn't know this poet Petra, but I've liked this poem quite e lot!
I love cherry trees... I'm leaving one behind in my old house, but being in my bortohers part of the garden, it would have been lost anyway ...
I like also his trusting other 50 springs more ....
I love cherry trees... I'm leaving one behind in my old house, but being in my bortohers part of the garden, it would have been lost anyway ...
I like also his trusting other 50 springs more ....
I really like the images in this poem, and as Laura mentioned, the optimism of trusting in his having his full "three score and ten" years. That is so typical of a "lad" or teenager! I also found his feeling that "to look at things in bloomFifty springs are little room"
appealing, that appreciation of beauties of spring implied...
Such a lovely poem, excellent choice Petra! I need to start thinking of my first poem to post here. There have been some brilliant choices.
How apt to come across this thread just as the cherry blossoms are flowering here! Lovely images, and musings. Thank you Petra :)
Only almond blossom here. This lovely poem makes me look forward to the wonderful outburst of cherry coming soon.
This is one of my most favorite poems and Houseman has to be up there in my Top 5 poets of all time. Thank-you to Petra for posting this!







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 three score 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.
- From A Shropshire Lad