by Allan Cunningham (1784 - 1842)

Gone were but the winter cold
Language: English 
Gone were but the winter cold,
And gone were but the snow,
I could sleep in the wild woods
Where primroses, primroses blow.

Cold's the snow at my head,
And cold at my feet;
And the finger of death's at my e'en,
Closing them to sleep.

Let none tell my father,
Or my mother so dear;
I'll meet them both in Heaven
At the spring of the year.

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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 between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 12
Word count: 68