
The Winter It Is Past
The winter it is past and the summer's come at last,
And the small birds sing on every tree;
The little hearts are glad but mine is very sad,
For my lover is parted from me.
Oh the rose among the briar by the water running clear,
Has charms for the linnet and the bee;
Their little hearts are blessed but mine can know no rest,
For my lover is parted from me.
For my love is like the sun, in the firmament does run,
Forever constant and true;
But his is like the moon that wanders up and down,
And every month it is new.
All you who are in love and cannot it remove,
I pity the pains you endure:
For experience makes me know that your hearts are full of woe,
A woe that no mortal can cure.
(Photo by Yeachin Tsai)