Nameless pain
Language:
English
In my nostrils the summer wind
Blows the exquisite scent of the rose!
O for the golden, golden wind,
Breaking the buds as it goes,
Breaking the buds,
And bending the grass,
And spilling the scent of the rose!
O wind of the summer morn,
Tearing the petals in twain,
Wafting the fragrant soul
Of the rose through valley and plain,
I would you could tear my heart to-day,
And scatter its nameless pain.
Authorship
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text),
listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)
Date added to the website: 2008-06-15.
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