The Poetical Works of Robert Burns/The Winter it is past
For works with similar titles, see The Winter it is past.
THE WINTER IT IS PAST.
A FRAGMENT.
The winter it is past, and the simmer comes at last,And the small birds sing on every tree;Now every thing is glad, while I am very sad,Since my true love is parted from me.
The rose upon the brier by the waters running clear,May have charms for the linnet or the bee;Their little loves are blest, and their little hearts at rest,But my true love is parted from me.