I’ve been thinking about my grandmother lately. Born in 1904, she passed away thirteen years ago this week. She grew up on a farm, had a garden until she was in her 70s and a tomato plant by her back door after that. Having lived through the Depression, she saved EVERYTHING. I loved spending time at her house because I never knew what treasure would turn up. Her father’s family emigrated from Scotland in the 1870s, and she was fiercely proud of her Scottish heritage. Robert Burns was one her favorite poets, so I thought it would be fitting today to share one of the “national poet of Scotland’s” most famous poems.
A Red, Red Rose
by Robert Burns
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.
Please be sure to visit Tabatha at The Opposite of Indifference for the Poetry Friday Round Up.