A Red, Red Rose
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.
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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.
Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou artβ Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night And watching, with eternal lids apart, Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,
A glimpse through an interstice caught, Of a crowd of workmen and drivers in a bar-room around the stove late of a winter night, and I unremark'd seated in a corner,
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of being and ideal grace.
is even more fun than going to San Sebastian, IrΓΊn, Hendaye, Biarritz, Bayonne or being sick to my stomach on the Travesera de Gracia in Barcelona partly because in your orange shirt you look like a better happier St. Sebastian partly because of my love for you, partly because of your love for yoghurt
I loved you first: but afterwards your love Outsoaring mine, sang such a loftier song As drowned the friendly cooings of my dove. Which owes the other most? my love was long,
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