Charles Hubert Hastings Parry - Gone were but the winter cold - текст песни (слова)

Gone were but the winter cold, 
 And gone were but the snow, 
 I could sleep in the wild woods 
 Where 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.