There’s a Robert Burn’s poem that I sang in my high school chorus days.
O my Love’s like a red, red rose,
That’s newly sprung in June:
O my Love’s like the melody,
That’s sweetly play’d in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in love am I;
And I will love thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry.
As soon as I saw Rose, I couldn’t help but remember this song. The fourth child, only girl, of a family who had experienced so much miscarriage, Rose is a gift.
Fair haired and loved deeply until all the seas go dry.