7
THE DAY RETURNS.
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,
Heaven 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 fee 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!
PLAID AMANG THE HEATHER.
⟨The⟩ wind blew hie o'er muir and lea,
⟨And⟩ dark and stormy grew the weather,
⟨The⟩ rain rain'd sair among the heather,
⟨But⟩ my love's plaid amang the heather.
O my bonny highland laddie,
My winsome, weelsar'd highland laddie,
Wha wad mind the wind and rain,
Sae weel row't in his tartan plaidie.
