s the seal imprest—
the sacred vow we ne'er should sever.”
the haunt o' spring's the primrose-brae,
the summer joys the flocks to follow;
how cheery thro' her short'ning day,
is autumn in her weeds o' yellow;
but they melt the glowi,
or the soul in speechless pleasure?
or thro' eaerve the rapture dart,
like meeting her, our bosom's treasure?