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A Red, Red Rose

Difficult, but Super Great!

Difficult, but Super Great!

Robert Burns is not popular with American readers. I suspect that is because he wrote in a broad Lowland Scots dialect that sends most Americans packing to a glossary. Fortunately, his poems are not all that way; and he is one of the few poets in the English language who were farmers before they were litterateurs. Below is his poem entitled “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 melody
   That’s sweetly played in tune.

So 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;
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 awhile!
And I will come again, my luve,
   Though it were ten thousand mile.