O were my love yon Lilac fair…

Robert Burns, 1759 - 1796

O were my love yon Lilac fair, 
  Wi’ purple blossoms to the Spring,
And I, a bird to shelter there, 
  When wearied on my little wing!
How I wad mourn when it was torn        
  By Autumn wild, and Winter rude!
But I wad sing on wanton wing, 
  When youthfu’ May its bloom renew’d.
O gin my love were yon red rose, 
  That grows upon the castle wa’;   
And I myself a drap o’ dew, 
  Into her bonie breast to fa’!
O there, beyond expression blest, 
  I’d feast on beauty a’ the night;
Seal’d on her silk-saft faulds to rest,
  Till fley’d awa by Phoebus’ light!


En route from the library to the Post Office this morning, I passed this lovely Lilac tree. As the day progressed, the blue skies disappeared and the rain arrived…