THE WINTER it is past, and the summer comes at last <br />And the small birds, they sing on ev'ry tree; <br />Now ev'ry thing is glad, while I am very sad, <br />Since my true love is parted from me. <br /> <br /> <br />The rose upon the breer, by the waters running clear, <br />May have charms for the linnet or the bee; <br />Their little loves are blest, and their little hearts at rest, <br />But my true love is parted from me.<br /><br />Robert Burns<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-winter-it-is-past/
