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.
