<b>We'll Go No More A-roving</b> So, we'll go no more a-roving So late into the night, Though the heart still be as loving, And the moon still be as… - 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. II 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. III

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.

I loved my country, and I hated him.

There’s music in the sighing of a reed;
There’s music in the gushing of a rill;
There’s music in all things, if men had ears:
Their Earth is but an echo of the spheres.

When people say, 'I've told you fifty times',
They mean to scold, and very often do;
When poets say, 'I've written fifty rhymes',
They make you dread that they'll recite them too