“So, we’ll go no more a roving” Lord Byron

WISDOM

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

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moments with Keats

johnpoetflanagan

tread soft round mossy trees
where apples sweeten and hazels swell
walk a field fumed with poppies
and hear swallows over say farewell

on a peak between two spreads
turn from grey Atlantic’s fathomed heart
and face the cryptic blue Pacific
we’ve yet to delve and chart

be still and listen to sweet music
on Attic vase simple strung
and don’t regret the lovers never kiss
they are perfected and forever young

raise a glass full of the warm south
the night is tender and the moon is grand
we’ll drink to Beauty Truth and Love
and Peace to touch us with a magic hand

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