William Ernest Henley


Echoes. 8. We値l Go No More A-Roving


We値l go no more a-roving by the light of the moon.
November glooms are barren beside the dusk of June.
The summer flowers are faded, the summer thoughts are sere.
We値l go no more a-roving, lest worse befall, my dear.

We値l go no more a-roving by the light of the moon.
The song we sang rings hollow, and heavy runs the tune.
Glad ways and words remembered would shame the wretched year.
We値l go no more a-roving, nor dream we did, my dear.

We値l go no more a-roving by the light of the moon.
If yet we walk together, we need not shun the noon.
No sweet thing left to savour, no sad thing left to fear,
We値l go no more a-roving, but weep at home, my dear.






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