song.—the day returns
    tune—“seventh of november.”
    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.
    than 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 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 bliss—it breaks my heart!