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 so soon,

Yet we'll go no more roving

By the light of the moon.

Lord Byron

Lord Byron (born January 22, 1788, London, England—died April 19, 1824, Missolonghi, Greece) British Romantic poet and satirist whose poetry and personality captured the imagination of Europe. Renowned as the “gloomy egoist” of his autobiographical poem Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage (1812–18) in the 19th century, he is now more generally esteemed for the satiric realism of Don Juan (1819–24). "I was born for opposition,” Byron proclaimed in Don Juan, Canto XV. The outstanding elements of his poetry both support his self-analysis and insure his enduring reputation. As a major political and social satirist, he repeatedly denounces war, tyranny, and hypocrisy. As an untiring champion of liberty, he firmly believed that “Revolution / Alone can save the earth from hell’s pollution”, a tenet he defended with his life.

More poems from same author

A Fragment: When, To Their Airy Hall A Very Mournful Ballad On The Siege And Conquest Of Alhama Answer To A Beautiful Poem, Entitled 'The Common Lot' Bright Be The Place Of Thy Soul! Churchill's Grave: A Fact Literally Rendered

So we'll go no more a roving

More poems from same author

Unlock the Power of Language & AI

Lughaat

Spell Checker

OCR