Lyric Poem · Nature
The Winter it is Past
by Robert Burns
THE WINTER it is past, and the summer comes at last
And the small birds, they sing on ev’ry tree;
Now ev’ry thing is glad, while I am very sad,
Since my true love is parted from me.
The rose upon the breer, 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.
This poem is in the public domain.
“The Winter it is Past” by Robert Burns — quilloak.com/poems/the-winter-it-is-past
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