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
basically this poem is about this man counting his years that he lived and how many more he got to live but i dont know how to relate it to real life
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
basically this poem is about this man counting his years that he lived and how many more he got to live but i dont know how to relate it to real life