SO, WE'LL GO NO MORE
A ROVING
So, we'll go no more a roving
So late, into the
night,
Though the heart be
still as loving,
And the moon be still
as bright.
For the sword outwears its sheath,
And the soul wears out
the breast
And the heart must
pause to breathe,
And love itself have
rest.
Though the night was made for loving
And the day returns
too soon,
Yet we'll go no more a
roving
By the light of the
moon