SO WE'LL GO NO MORE A-ROVING
                  - George Gordon, Lord Byron

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 outwears its breast,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
    And love itself a 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.