by Thomas Bailey Aldrich (1836 - 1907)

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):


Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website: 2008-06-15
Line count: 13
Word count: 74