The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero)/Poetry/Volume 4/So we'll go no more a-roving
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.
Feb. 28, 1817.
[First published, Letters and Journals, 1830, ii. 79.]
- ["The mumming closed with a masked ball at the Fenice, where I went, as also to most of the ridottos, etc., etc.; and, though I did not dissipate much upon the whole, yet I find 'the sword wearing out the scabbard,' though I have but just turned the corner of twenty-nine."—Letter to Moore, February 28, 1817. The verses form part of the letter. (See Letters, 1900, iv. 59, 60.)]