A very long time ago, I heard this poem sung by a sweet young tenor. It was beautiful and sad and made my heart sigh. It took a couple of hearings to understand all the words, but it still makes me smile whenever I hear or read it.
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 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:
O I will luve thee still, my dear,
When 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.