The day returns, my bosom burns,
The blissful day we twa did meet:
Tho winter wild in tempest toil'd,
Ne'er summer-sun was half sae sweet.
That a'the pride that loads the tide,
And crosses o'er the sultry line,
Than kingly robes, than crowns and globes,
Heav'n gave me more - it made thee mine!
While day and night can bring delight,
Or Nature aught of pleasure qive,
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 bliss, it breaks my heart!