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
so
soon,
Yet
we'll
go
no
more
roving
By
the
light
of
the
moon.