Robert Burns (1759–1796). Poems and Songs.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14. |
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| 447. Song—A red, red Rose |
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| 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. | |
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| As fair art thou, my bonie lass, | 5 |
| So deep in luve am I; | |
| And I will luve thee still, my dear, | |
| Till a’ the seas gang dry. | |
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| Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear, | |
| And the rocks melt wi’ the sun; | 10 |
| And I will luve thee still, my dear, | |
| While the sands o’ life shall run. | |
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| And fare-thee-weel, my only Luve! | |
| And fare-thee-weel, a while! | |
| And I will come again, my Luve, | 15 |
| Tho’ ’twere ten thousand mile! | |
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