Red, Red Rose Limited Edition Harp
O my Luve is like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my Luve is like the melody
That’s sweetly played in tune.
So 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;
I will love thee still, my dear,
While 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.
- Robert Burns
I quite love that, like music, roses aren’t just one thing. They aren’t simply ephemeral or beautiful or an incredible scent on a languid summer breeze. Roses are tough. They persevere. They hold sway over gardens all around the world. They are monarchs reigning everywhere from pots on skyscraper balconies to my little garden out in front of the house. They are there for us all, thorny, fragrant, majestic, delicate. I don’t know that roses sing but I do think the rest of the garden sings for them. - P. Rees