THE DAY returns, my bosom burns,
The blissful day we twa did meet:
Tho winter wild in tempest toild,
Neer summer-sun was half sae sweet.
Than a the pride that loads the tide,
And crosses oer the sultry line;
Than kingly robes, than crowns and globes,
Heavn gave me moreit made thee mine!
While day and night can bring delight,
Or Nature aught of pleasure give;
While joys above my mind can move,
For thee, and thee alone, I live.
When that grim foe of life below
Comes in between to make us part,
The iron hand that breaks our band,
It breaks my blissit breaks my heart!