Moon.

Moon. How thy light shines so beutifully and gently across the waves of the sea, as they crash upon the shore. Oh, how I long for thee to show thy face, so I may dream, a dream of dreams and sleep, a sleep of sleeps. I wish to rest mine head upon the clouds, and be sang to sleep by the roaring sea. Oh moon. Show me thy face, So I may sleep. 

A Red Red Rose - a poem by Robert Burns

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 played 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 awhile!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho' it ware ten thousand mile.