nothing so dear

Gae wi’ me noo, love, far awa’
tae a land sae ancient an’ braw
whaur oor sweet weans an’ aye we twa
a life shall mak’ sae dear.
Tae thee shall A e’er be leal
’twas thee taught me richt how tae feel
how tae ken truest love aye weel
wi’ nae at all tae fear.
Come climb wi’ me yon rollin’ knowes
amang heather an’ wand’rin’ yowes
whaur the day to yer beauty bows
an’ gi’es yer tender haun.
Throu glens painted rich wi’ life
sae far from warldly cares and strife
whit joy tae kneel doon wi’ ma wife
alang the gentlest straun.
In winter let us dare the snaw
the silence tae drink in oor shaw
nae matter hou the winds maun blaw
a’ll always hauld ye near.
Gin ye could but love me so then
A wad the warld should truly ken
e’en tae the peak o’ the highest ben
fer me is nathin’ sae dear.

2015.05.22 Highlands 019


Go with me now, love, far away
to a land so ancient and fine
where our sweet children and yes we two
a life shall make so dear.
To thee shall I ever be loyal
’twas thee taught me right how to feel
how to know truest love so well
with not at all to fear.
Come climb with me yon rolling hills
among heather and wandering ewes
where the day to your beauty bows
and give me your tender hand.
Through glens painted rich with life
so far from worldly cares and strife
what joy to kneel down with my wife
along the gentlest shore.
In winter let us dare the snow
the silence to drink in our grove
no matter how the winds may blow
I’ll always hold you near.
If you could but love me so then
I would the world should truly know
even to the peak of the highest mountain
for me is nothing so dear.

4 thoughts on “nothing so dear

  1. This is so, so lovely… especially to see the Scots version also… I remember when my Grandad, who was English but with Scottish roots, recited Burns’ “Ode to a mouse” to me when I was a teen… I was completely enchanted by the dialect.
    This is a really beautiful love poem… ultimate romance, and with the perfect picture. 💖


    • He recited Burns to you? When you were a teen? I love that. What a dear man. Do you know from where your family hailed? Have you been? I miss Scotland. There’s a song I find myself singing around the house here in America sometimes, which I’m sure my family are tired of hearing me sing. It seems morbid enough, I imagine, yet it comforts me:
      When I die, bury me low
      Where I can hear the bonny Tweed flow
      A sweeter place I never will know.
      Than the rolling hills o’ the Borders.

      Just me, desperately wanting to go home.
      Anyway, I’m blethering on here. Thank you as always, Lia, for being so kind.

      Liked by 1 person

      • Yes… it was a real moment of connection for me. We didn’t usually see eye to eye, but he knew I liked poetry… and he was a true performer by nature, so he recited it well. :)) He was from the northwest of England. I don’t know where his ancestors were from, only that his side of the family was supposedly descended from Rob Roy MacGreggor…
        That is a beautiful song… very beautiful. The one we sang at Gramps’ funeral was “By yon bonny banks…”
        I can so well imagine your wish to go home. I’ve never been there, travelled quite a bit but mostly in the south of Europe, where the climes are a bit warmer… :)) I miss it there. But I am also glad to be in my homeland at this time. I really, really hope you’re able to return to yours soon, if it’s meant to be.
        And you are so welcome… has been a true pleasure to connect. Your poetry is lovely.


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