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 the 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.

- Lord Byron

Monkey Poo Fights

Robert Frost's epitaph reads: "I had a lover's quarrel with the world."

I've always loved this lesser-known poem by Robert Frost, which I actually found on a piece of scrap paper at my school library when I was 15...