“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 even love 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.”


(Lovely  evenings make me melancholy, but not  in a bad way!  Sweet dreams O Ratty! )


3 thoughts on “Evensong”

  1. For some reason, my worst melancholy is in the morning, rather than evening. At seeing the title, my thoughts jumped to the Anglican Evensong service. Cranmer’s original language rivals Byron’s.

  2. I swear I’ve heard this in a movie. I want to say it was Breaker Morant; I recall a scene where Morant reads a poem and Handcock asks if he wrote it. Morant replies, “No, just some minor poet called Byron.” I don’t know if it’s “So, we’ll go no more a roving” though, and I don’t own the disc to check.

    Love this, though.


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