by Robert Burns (1759 - 1796)

The Primrose
Language: English 
Dost ask me, why I send thee here
The firstling of the infant year:
This lovely native of the vale,
That hangs so pensive and so pale?

Look on its bending stalk, so weak.
That, each way yielding, doth not break,
And see how aptly it reveals
The doubts and fears a lover feels.

Look on its leaves of yellow hue
Bepearl'd thus with morning dew,
And these will whisper in thine ears: -
"The sweets of loves are wash'd with tears."

Confirmed with The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Burns, Boston and New York, Houghton Mifflin Company, 1900, pages 325-326. This poem appears to have been inspired by one of the two versions of "The Primrose" written either by Thomas Carew or Robert Herrick: here and here.


Text Authorship:

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):

    [ None yet in the database ]


Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website: 2022-01-19
Line count: 12
Word count: 81