“O Cherry Tree! O Cherry Tree!
That Spring-time was so fair:
Thy boughs were a white heaven to me,
For He was there.
O Cherry Tree, glad Cherry Tree!
He said my red lips were
Richer than thy ripe fruit: ah me!
He kiss’d me there.
O Cherry Tree, sad Cherry Tree!
Now are thy branches bare:
The leafless boughs repeat to me —
He is not there.”
(W.J. Linton in Under a cherry tree)
Liège (B)
