We'll 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'll go no more a-roving, lest worse befall, my dear. We'll 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'll go more a-roving, nor dream we did, my dear, We'll 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, but weep at home, my dear. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GONE by MARY ELIZABETH COLERIDGE THE ECSTASY [EXTASIE] by JOHN DONNE MENAPHON: DORON'S JIG by ROBERT GREENE DARKNESS IS THINNING by GREGORY I STANZAS; HOOD'S LAST POEM by THOMAS HOOD THE GHOSTS OF THE BUFFALOES by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY TIRED MOTHERS by MAY LOUISE RILEY SMITH A TURKISH LEGEND by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH GREENES FUNERALLS: SONNET 10. A CATALOGUE OF CERTAINE OF HIS BOOKES by RICHARD BARNFIELD |