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.
----Lord byron