Not even summer yet Can make my quite forget That still most blessed thing, The early spring. I watch'd the red-tipped trees Burst into greeneries; Saw the swift blossom come Like sea dissolv'd in foam. But in the lover's ways, The summer of his days Is come from such a spring As poets cannot sing.
About the headline (FAQ)
- by Peter Burra (1909 - 1937), "Song" [author's text not yet checked against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)
- by (Edward) Benjamin Britten (1913 - 1976), "Not even summer yet", 1937, published 1994 [ high voice and piano ] [sung text checked 1 time]
Researcher for this text: David K. Smythe
This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 12
Word count: 55