For the Sake of Old Times and Roses

Scottish Poet Robert Burnes was born on January 25th in 1759.  Today marks his birthday.  Burnes was born to a poor farmer and had little formal education.  There is a poetry to such humble beginnings.  I probably do not recall when I first fell for Burnes' verses -- as a young child in a select choir, I was tasked by my choral director to learn the harmony part to a musical rendition of his verse My Luv is Like a Red, Red Rose.  At the time, I did not know that Burnes was the author of this verse nor did I care particularly for the verse, but, over the years, the verse has stuck with me and I have grown to love it. 

I later learned to appreciate more of Burnes verses, most especially his poem Auld Lang Syne, which the Husband and I enjoy signing not only at New Years but throughout the year.  There is something about Auld Lang Syne, which translates into "days gone by" or "for the sake of old times" that strikes at the goodness in life.  One can almost hear the people in bars in Scotland signing the happy song and welcoming in the new year.  (As a side note, the Husband and I really enjoy Susan Boyle's rendition of the song, which is more somber in tone but very reflective).  Burnes apparently first "composed" this verse when writing a letter -- he merely noted that it was an "old Scottish song" and passed it off as if it had been passed down trough the Scots through the ages. 

There is a simplicity to Burnes's poetry that I have grown to appreciate -- he, like the best poets, writes about the basic things: roses, love, the ploughman, spring.  I encourage all Good Life followers to take a few moments to read some Burnes today -- I will be remembering as a child unknowingly putting his verse to music while wearning a red choral dress only to later dance in my red wedding reception dress  (on New Years Eve) to his Auld Lang Syne.  Goodspeed, Burnes. Here's to old times.

Adieu, dear, amiable youth!
Your heart can ne'er be wanting!
May prudence, fortitude, and truth,
Erect your brow undaunting!
In ploughman phrase, ``God send you speed,''
Still daily to grow wiser;
And may ye better reck the rede,
Than ever did th' adviser!