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 it's sheath,
And the soul wears out the breast,
And the heart must pause to breath,
and love itself of 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.
-by Lord Byron
