All Heaven and Earth are still, though not in sleep, But breathless, as we grow when feeling most.

What is the worst of woes that wait on age? What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow? To view each loved one blotted from life's page, And be alone on earth, as I am now.

Then stirs the feeling infinite, so felt In solitude, where we are least alone.

But quiet to quick bosoms is a hell.

It is the lava of the imagination whose eruption prevents an earthquake.

Accursed be the city where the laws would stifle nature's!

So we'll go no more a-roving So late into the night, Though the heart still be as loving, And the moon still be as bright. For the sword outwears its sheath, And the soul outwears 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.