The last one from my little anthology “Poems for Love” and the first one here by Lord Byron (I know: for shame!). It might come as a surprise that I’m not posting “She Walks In Beauty”. But that’s what I’ve loved about this anthology. I discovered poems by famous authors that aren’t necessarily “the greats”. The best treasures are found off the beaten track, right?
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.
George Gordon, Lord Byron