In front of my house stands a cherry tree
The first blooms open eager to the light
As the season drifts along so dreary,
A canopy of buds, not cloven quite.
The tender blooms did grow so green and fresh,
For nature’s beauty is a short-lived beau
And quick the blossoms fall as all the best,
To shower down as the kind cloak of snow.
They say spring sheds its tears, for earth it cries,
But the cherry tree does not welcome spring;
It passes only by the palest skies
And hearkens slow to winter’s somber fling.
The blooms do fade with springs emerging rays,
Gracious in lending mirth to winter days.
