These are the verses in Cromek's Reliques of Robert Burns, page 446 and titled FRAGMENT (see my post above)


The winter it is past, and the simmer comes at last,
And the small birds sing on every tree;
Now every thing is glad whie I am very sad,
Since my true love is 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 true love is parted from me.