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.

George Gordon, Lord Byron (1788-1824) English poet

“So We’ll Go No More A-Roving” (1817)
    (Source)

Included in a letter to his friend Thomas Moore (28 Feb 1817), in which he complained he'd been up too late on too many night during the Carnival in Venice.