Poetic License

As my wife was presented with a rose for Mother's Day, I was reminded of my favorite poem:

A Red, Red Rose

O MY Luve 's like a red, red rose
That 's newly sprung in June:
O my Luve 's like the melodie
That's sweetly play'd in tune!

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I:
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry:

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun;
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only Luve,
And fare thee weel a while!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile.
-- Robert Burns, 1759-1796

Here's to the feelings that putting one right word after another can create.

Perhaps I'm the only adherent of Romanticism in the group or perhaps you have a favorite that causes you to wax rhapsodic as well.