Adaptations

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.

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.

I speak not, I trace not, I breathe not thy name,

There is grief in the sound, there is guilt in the fame:

But the tear which now burns on my cheek may impart

The deep thoughts that dwell in that silence of heart.

Too brief our passion, too short the meet

There was a time, I need not name,

When all our feelings were the same

In secret we met ---

In silence I grieve,

If I should meet thee

How should I greet thee? ---

With silence and tears?

Or words and smiles.

By day or night, in weal or woe,

This heart, no longer free,

Must bear the love it cannot show,

And silent ache for thee.

Till I shall be forgot,

And senseless, as the mouldering stone

Which tells that I shall be no more.