Poetry Set in Jazz

So we'll go no more a-roving
  So late into the night,
Though the heart be [still]1 as loving,
  And the moon be still as bright.

For the sword outwears [the]2 sheath,
  And the soul wears out the breast,
And the heart [must pause to breathe]3,
  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.

When we two parted
    In silence and tears, 
Half broken-hearted
    To sever for years, 
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
    Colder thy kiss; 
Truly that hour foretold
    Sorrow to this.

The dew of the morning
    Sunk chill on my brow -- 
It felt like the warning
    Of what I feel now. 
Thy vows are all broken,
    And light is thy fame; 
I hear thy name spoken,
    And share in its shame.

They name thee before me,
    A knell to mine ear; 
A shudder comes o'er me --
    Why wert thou so dear? 
They know not I knew thee,
    Who knew thee too well:-- 
Long, long shall I rue thee,
    Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met --
    In silence I grieve 
That thy heart could forget,
    Thy spirit deceive. 
If I should meet thee
    After long years, 
How should I greet thee? --
    With silence and tears.

My love could come home early
 . . . . . . . . . .

— The rest of this text is not
currently in the database but will be
added as soon as we obtain it. —

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone
 [ ... ]

When I am dead, my dearest,
  Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
  Nor shady cypress tree:
Be the green grass above me
  With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember,
  And if thou wilt, forget.

I shall not see the shadows,
  I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
  Sing on, as if in pain:
And dreaming through the twilight
  That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
  And haply may forget.

Underneath an abject willow
 [ ... ]