Robert Burns wrote peerless love songs in his own voice but could also show sympathetic understanding of the emotional plight of women who have lost out in love. Think of Ye Banks and Braes o’ Bonie Doon (“Wi’ lichtsome heart I pu’d a rose,/ Fu’ sweet upon its thorny tree;/ And my fause Luver staw my rose,/ But, ah! he left the thorn wi’ me.”).

Here is another lesser known, but equally poignant, poem-cum-song, articulating the thoughts of a deserted woman.

 

           THE WINTER IT IS PAST

 

The winter it is past, and the summer’s come at last,

And the small birds sing in ev’ry tree;

The hearts of these are glad, but mine is very sad,

For my Lover has parted from me.

~

The rose upon the brier, by the waters running clear,

May have charms for the linnet or the bee;

Their little loves are blest and their little hearts at rest,

But my Lover has parted from me.

~

My love is like the sun, in the firmament does run,
For ever constant and true;

But his is like the moon that wanders up and down,

And every month it is new.

~

All you that are in love and cannot it remove,

I pity the pains you endure;

For experience makes me know that your hearts are full of woe,

A woe that no mortal can cure.