I love April.  It’s spring, it’s National Poetry Month, and it contains my daughter’s birthday.  It’s the only month of color in my shady yard, when one hundred tulips, along with narcissi, crocuses, anemones and snowdrops bloom before the oak tree leafs out.  In honor of my favorite month, I will be occasionally posting some of my favorite poems, as the spirit moves me, and I”d love to hear about some of yours.  Here’s the first poem I ever memorized.  Happy Spring!

By A. E. Housman 1859–1936

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.
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