" 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 have rest.
Though the night was made for loving,
And the day arrives too soon.
Yet we'll go no more a-roving
By the light of the moon.
Jesus. Byron wrote this hungover after the Venetian Carnival. I'll go hide now.