Romance ~

Romance, who loves to nod and sing

With drowsy head and folded wing

Among the green leaves as they


Far down within some shadowy lake,

To me a painted paroquetHath been—most familiar bird—Taught me my alphabet to say

To lisp my very earliest word

While in the wild wood I did lie,

A child—with a most knowing eye.

Of late, eternal condor years

So shake the very Heaven on high

With tumult as they thunder by,

I have no time for idle cares

Through gazing on the unquiet sky;

And when an hour with calmer wingsIts down upon my spirit flings,

That little time with lyre and rhymeTo while away—forbidden things—My heart would feel to be a crimeUnless it trembled with the strings.