Poetry

In honor of the poetry day that is going on in blogland, I present to you:

Ye Banks and Braes O' Bonnie Doon

Written by Robert Burns

Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon,
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair?
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae weary fu' o' care?
Thou'lt break my heart, thou warbling bird,
That wantons thro' the flowering thorn:
Thou minds me o' departed joys,
Departed never to return.

Aft hae I rov'd by bonnie Doon,
To see the rose and woodbine twine;
And ilka bird sang o' its love
And fondly sae did I o' mine.
Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,
Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree;
And my fause lover stole my rose,
But ah! he left the thorn wi' me.

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No, I do not know why Mr. Burns referred to "my fause lover" as he, but oh well. And, no, I have not had an experience exactly like this, but I can sympathize because yesterday I was upset about something and everything reminded my of it.