The Winter it is past, and the summer...
Language:
English
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 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.
Input by Jean Branch
Authorship
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text),
listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)
Set in
German,
a translation of
(Johann) Philipp Kaufmann (1802-1846)
GER
Added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
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