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Her flowing locks, the raven's wing, Adown her neck and bosom hing; How sweet unto that breast to cling, And round that neck entwine her! Her lips are roses wat wi' dew, O, what a feast, her bonie mou'! Her cheeks a mair celestial hue, A crimson still diviner.
This is a poem by Robert Burns. It is read here by Derek Riddell.
With Valentine's Day cards about to be made or bought and posted, a wee something to help put sweethearts in the appropriate mood. When it comes to Valentine verses, specific is good! Great poets don’t always write great poems and this lazily conventional love poem is difficult to love. It’s glibly generic and could be sent or read to any dark-haired woman. But even on amatory and poetic auto-pilot, Burns can't wholly avoid being charming in an admittedly formulaic and slightly cheesy way.
Donny O'Rourke
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