July 15 Robert Burns: Oh, My Love Is Like A Red, Red Rose

Ah, love! Perhaps it makes us a little crazy, a little blind. We tend to leap tall buildings in a single bound and shoot for the moon. Love makes us climb the highest mountain, swim the deepest seas. In other words, this is a poem full of hyperbole, or overstatement. “I will love you until all the seas [go] dry.” Well, it’s not physically possible for the poet (who wrote this in the 1700s) to love her until the seas run dry – he’d have to live a hundred thousand (perhaps even million) years longer for that to happen. But if he did, he claims, he’d still love her. Til “the rocks melt wi’ the sun,” well, that would mean he would have to live even longer. He’d have to wait the millions of years it would take for the furnace within the sun to use up all of its hydrogen and bloom into a red giant, but you get the picture. He’s overstating the time, because he’s certain that he will love her forever – or as far as he’s concerned is forever.

Pretty sure, that in the 1700s they didn’t think any of that stuff would actually happen, but even though we know it, will millions of years is still close enough to eternity for us.

Oh, My Love Is Like A Red, Red Rose

by Robert Burns

Oh, my love is like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June;
My love is like the melody
That’s sweetly played in tune.

So fair art thou, my bonny lass,
So deep in love am I;
And I will love 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;
And I will love thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only love!
And fare thee weel awhile!
And I will come again, my love
Though it were ten thousand mile.

About penneloppe

I like to write horror, dark fantasy and crime fiction. Sometimes, I'll write science fiction, but usually I like to write science fact. I also write screenplays and stage plays. My day job is office work. I live in Seattle and I have a cat.
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