1

So we'll go nor more-a-roving

So late into the night,

Though the heart be still as bright.

2

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.

3

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.