By Lord Byron, Read by Tom Hiddleston.
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.
You called my site “stuffy”. You found me irrelevant. I am snipping the cord to our past, and moving onward to my future. My poetry and myself maybe considered stuffy to you, but I am who I am. And I will remain who I am and pursue what makes sense to me. I am leaving behind the clutter of my mind, and the murkiness that has been surrounding me of late. Onward, baby. Onward.