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