Carolina Oliphant, Lady Nairne (1766–1845)

NOW the bricht sun, and the soft simmer showers

Deck a’ the woods and the gardens wi’ flowers;

But bonnie and sweet though the hale o’ them be,

There’s ane abune a’ that is dearest to me;

And O, that’s the white rose, the white rose o’ June,

And may he that should wear it come back again sune!

It’s no on my breast, nor yet in my hair

That the emblem dear I venture to wear;

But it blooms in my heart, and its white leaves I weet,

When alane in the goamin’ I wander to greet,

O’er the white rose, the white rose, the white rose o’ June;

And may he that should wear it come back again sune!

Mair fragrant and rich the red rose may be,

But there is nae spell to bind it to me;

But dear to my heart and to fond memorie,

Though scathed and though blighted the white rose may be.

O the white rose, the white rose, the white rose o’ June,

O may he that should wear it come back again sune!

And oh! may the true hearts thy perils who share,

Remembered wi’ tears and remembered in prayer,

Whom misfortune’s rude blast has sent far awa’,

Fair breezes bring back sune to cottage and ha’;—

Then, O sing the white rose, the white rose o’ June,

And may he that should wear it wear Scotland’s auld croun!