Whom To Quote This Christmas Season: Robert Burns in Bed Sipping Hot Chocolate

If you've seen Parks and Recreation and also hold the unpopular opinion that Ron Swanson is a superior character to The (American) Office's Dwight Schrute (I know, I know but sorrynotsorry) chances are, you remember the scene of Ron reading Robert Burns in Scotland. Even Ron's macho identity breaks under the raw and honest beauty of Burns's lines, so much so, that the whole scene has a certain vulnerability - not unknown by sitcoms, but certainly rare. (Although we do sometimes use 'emotionality' as a derogative term - almost as a synonym for 'moody' - it is not the case here. 'Emotionality' here means raw + heart-stretching.)

Let's be honest. Reading 'older' poetry - older in vocabulary and spelling - isn't always the easiest, but in certain cases entering the arena from a specific place - a TV show, in this case - can be very helpful. If I'm being completely honest, I'd had no interest in Robert Burns until watching that very scene in Parks and Recreation - but then, the whole sequence struck a chord in me. Hence my choosing Burns for this year's Christmas poetry. (Even though all I could find was one semi-matching poem, and even that about winter not Christmas per se. But that will not stop me, of course.)

Before we talk about him a tiny bit though, do yourself a favour and watch Ron's encounter with Burns on the official YouTube channel of Parks and Recreation: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=frbsZ8TGsX8

And here is the (whole) poem he reads (although he only reads the first part) - one that is not a Christmas/winter one yet (but all is not lost that is delayed. ;))

O were my love yon Lilac fair

By Robert Burns

O were my love yon Lilac fair,

Wi' purple blossoms to the Spring,

And I, a bird to shelter there,

When wearied on my little wing!

How I wad mourn when it was torn

By Autumn wild, and Winter rude!

But I wad sing on wanton wing,

When youthfu' May its bloom renew'd.

O gin my love were yon red rose,

That grows upon the castle wa';

And I myself a drap o' dew,

Into her bonie breast to fa'!

O there, beyond expression blest,

I'd feast on beauty a' the night;

Seal'd on her silk-saft faulds to rest,

Till fley'd awa by Phoebus' light!

And on a picture:

This Scotsman is not easy to digest - as a 21st-century reader - and also, I'm not aiming for a biography here, this post is not about that. What I found interesting about him, though, was that he was outstanding in both English and Scottish, it's no surprise that he is such a highly regarded poet of Scotland (if not the poet of the nation - ...probably, he is).

What does this have to do with Christmas anyway? Last year, I chose a female poet - a Pre-Raphhalite icon, Christina Rossetti - to share some of her Christmas pieces you could enjoy or even write on Christmas cards (something I love doing). Check out my post here: https://www.fearlessfrock.com/post/christmas-poems-to-write-on-your-christmas-cards-whom-to-quote-this-season

It's Burns's turn this time - so, here is the poem I will certainly quote:

Up in the Morning Early

by Robert Burns

Cauld blaws the wind frae east to west,

The drift is driving sairly;

Sae loud and shrill’s I hear the blast,

I’m sure it’s winter fairly.

Up in the morning’s no for me,

Up in the morning early;

When a’ the hills are cover’d wi’ snaw,

I’m sure its winter fairly.

The birds sit chittering in the thorn,

A’ day they fare but sparely;

And lang’s the night frae e’en to morn,

I’m sure it’s winter fairly.

Up in the morning’s no for me,

Up in the morning early;

When a’ the hills are cover’d wi’ snaw,

I’m sure its winter fairly.

Yes, as we are talking about poetry we know that he may not be writing about winter at all - but mourning, loss, and I'm fairly certain (that we can all be also fairly certain) that love is somehow involved (not in the happy way, haha). But also, is this his subtle way of saying winter is the time for sleeping in? Good for him! Would he have enjoyed a good cup of hot chocolate too? (Jokes aside - I presume hot chocolate must not have been a thing back then and here, I had to take a quick chocolate detour: I found out that chocolate arrived in the UK in the 17th century, first as medicine, so he might have seen or tasted chocolate?)

Well, still, one thing is sure: Robert Burns didn't enjoy a good cuppa of hot chocolate with whipped cream, candy sprinkles, and marshmallows. (It's something I love the idea of, but that amount of sugar would make me feel nauseous.)

And, as we are free souls, we are allowed indeed to imagine him in bed, sleeping in and sipping hot chocolate. AI and I constructed the scene this way:

Robert Burns, Scottish poet, with hot chocolate in bed - AI illustration — A happy Robert Burns with his hot chocolate

And then, he might decide to hit the roads and streets of Edinburgh with his hot chocolate. Somehow like this:

Robert Burns, Scottish poet, with hot chocolate in Edinburgh - AI illustration

This fictitious Burns would have been rather scandalous in our fictitious Scotland too, but then, according to Britannica, he was someone

'famous for his amours and his rebellion against orthodox religion and morality.'

And you may say; but why go rebellious with a cup of hot chocolate delighted by sprinkles, whipped cream and marshmallows - and drag it around a fictitious 17th Edinburgh? And for that, I must ask you... What other fun could hot chocolate have - if not going to the extremes? Overboard?

Okay, just one more, I swear:

Maximalism (as an aesthetic) and consumerism (as a nightmare) are not the goals for the holidays, of course, but having unapologetic joy is. That's the belief I try to live by, at least.

And last but not least what I will, personally, quote: