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Tuesday, August 31, 2004

Love comes, love goes.. it is futile, but why do we want to hold onto it so much? Even when you know it isn't true, why would you like to believe that it is?



So, We'll Go No More a Roving

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.


posted by the stradgirl* on 23:02|