BYRON FOR POETRY WEDNESDAY

“Like the measles, love is most dangerous when it comes late in life.” Lord Byron

A very busy day today, and what should have culminated as a joyous occasion at dinner tonight instead was marred by disappointment. A fitting poem by Byron…

WE'LL GO NO MORE A-ROVING
by: George Gordon (Lord) Byron (1788-1824)

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 a 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.

The weather all humid and cloying and the air in the house still and warm like rotting vegetation that has started to ferment under its own weight.