‘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.
Let’s start at the beginning. The beginning of each line, that is. If you ignore the rest for now, this is what you’re left with:
So…
So…
Though…
And…
For…
And…
And…
And…
Though…
And…
Yet…
By…
It’s a pretty restless sequence, especially the sequence of ‘and…and…and’ which rattles through the second stanza. And the poem is now empty of content. All the words are conjunctions, linking words. There are no nouns at the starts of lines, no adjectives, no verbs.
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