...

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 must 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.