Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900.
Robert Burns. 17591796503. A Red, Red Rose
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! | |
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, | 5 |
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; | 10 |
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 a while! | |
And I will come again, my Luve, | 15 |
Tho’ it were ten thousand mile. |