Love is like a red, red rose

Wrapt velvet cloth and warmth that glows

Resplendent in its glorious pose

Abundant in the heart that flows

But short-lived, be such grandiose

For cloth that fades in sunlight’s throws

And red to russet, Burns' hallows

Until the love be black as crows

Decayed and rotted, beauty goes

A chilled and icy cold wind blows

Capricious in just what it chose

That love becomes a dead red rose.