Poet's Perch : A Red, Red Rose by Robert Burns

A Red, Red Rose

 

O, my luve is like a red, red rose,

That's newly sprung in June.

O my luve is like the melodie

That's sweetly played in tune.

 

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,

So deep in luve am I,

And I will luve 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!

And I will luve thee still, my dear,

While the sands o' life shall run.

 

And fare thee weel, my only luve,

And fare thee weel awhile!

And I will come again, my luve,

Though it were ten thousand mile!

 

Robert Burns