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| 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 outwears the breast And the heart must pause to breathe And love itself to rest Though the night was made for loving and the day returns to soon Yet we'll no more go a roving By the light of the moon Lord Byron 1788-1824 |