The sprig of thyme
Language: English
Come all ye pretty maidens have you keep your gardens clean And let no one steal your thyme. My garden was planted full Of flowers ev'rywhere, flowers ev'rywhere. But for myself I wouldnot choose The flower I held so dear. The primrose I did refuse Because it came too soon The lily and pink I overlooked And vowed I would wait till June. In June came the rose so red And that's the flower for me: But when I gathered the rose so dear I gained but the willow tree. My garden is now run wild, When shall I plant it new? My bed that once was filled with thyme Is all overrun with rue. Green willow it will twist, Green willow it will twine, And I wish I was in that young man's arms That once had the heart of mine.
Authorship:
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Ralph Vaughan Williams (1872 - 1958), "The sprig of thyme", 1950 [women's chorus], from the cantata Folk Songs of the Four Seasons, no. 3b, (Summer), Oxford University Press [text verified 1 time]
Researcher for this page: Lidy van Noordenburg
This text was added to the website: 2010-01-31
Line count: 23
Word count: 142