One is loved because one is loved. No reason is needed for loving.
Impromptu Lines to Captain Riddell
by Robert Burns
YOUR News and Review, sir.
I’ve read through and through, sir,
With little admiring or blaming;
The Papers are barren
Of home-news or foreign,
No murders or rapes worth the naming.
Our friends, the Reviewers,
Those chippers and hewers,
Are judges of mortar and stone, sir;
But of meet or unmeet,
In a fabric complete,
I’ll boldly pronounce they are none, sir;
My goose-quill too rude is
To tell all your goodness
Bestow’d on your servant, the Poet;
Would to God I had one
Like a beam of the sun,
And then all the world, sir, should know it!