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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 alonee, 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! Robert Burns's other poems:
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Английская поэзия. Адрес для связи eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru |