So We'll Have No More of Rover

(with apologies to George Gordon, Lord Byron)

So we'll have no more of Rover
      Barking late into the night,
Though the neighbors be still unloving,
      And the porch light be still bright.

For the dog outwears his leash,
      And jumps upon the guest,
And we must pause to breathe,
      And the neighborhood have rest.

Though the night was made for sleeping,
      And the day returns too soon,
Yet we'll have no more of Rover
      Howling at the moon.



By contrast, here is Lord Byron's original poem:

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 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.