Poetry is Ah Sae Fine!

Poetry. What would our lives be like without it? (I shudder at the thought) I absolutely adore poetry. Just to name a few of the poets I love are Lord Alfred Tennyson, Robert Burns, Sir Walter Scott, and Emily Dickenson. (though I have many besides just these) My all time favorite is Robert Burns, who wrote in the Scottish Dialect.

He wrote 559 poems and songs in his short lifetime. He was born in Ayrshire, Scotland in 1759 and died in 1796. I recently discovered that his life was not what i had expected and his pleasures were not what they ought to have been. I was terribly disappointed. Well, as someone once said: love the sinner, hate the sin. The first poem I ever read of his was Handsome Nell. It's so cute and he wrote it when he was fifteen too! (how sweet)

Handsome Nell

O, once I lov'd a bonnie lass,

Aye, and I love her still;

And whilst that virtue warms my breast

I'll love my handsome Nell.

*

As bonnie lasses I hae seen,

And mony full as braw,

But for a modest gracefu' mien

The like I never saw.

*

A bonnie lass, I will confess,

Is pleasant to the e'e,

But without some better qualities

She's no a lass for me.

*

But Nellie's looks are blithe and sweet,

And what is best of a'

Her reputation is complete,

And fair without a flaw.

*

She dresses aye sae clean and neat,

Both decent and genteel;

And then there's something in her gait

Gars ony dress look weel.

*

A gaudy dress and gentle air

May slightly touch the heart,

But it's innocence and modesty

That polishes the dart.

*

'Tis this in Nelly pleases me,

'Tis this enchants my soul

For absolutely in my breast

She reigns without control.

Here's one of his songs. It's quite lovely when played on the harp.

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 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 w' the sun!
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,

Though it were ten thousand miles.