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Name:  
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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 a 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.