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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.
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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. |
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