A Red, Red Rose by Robert Burns
I haven’t had an occasion to post this poem, so I’m going to do it without one, anyway.
A Red, Red Rose
By Robert Burns
O my luve’s like a red, red rose,
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my luve’s like the melodie
That’s sweetly play’d in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will love thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry.
Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun:
I will love thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.
And fare thee weel my only luve!
And fare thee weel a while!
And I will come again, my luve,
Tho’ it were ten thousand mile!
