Romance

Edgar Allan Poe

      Romance, who loves to nod and sing,
      With drowsy head and folded wing,
      Among the green leaves as they shake
      Far down within some shadowy lake,
      To me a painted paroquet
      Hath been- a 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 wings
      Its down upon my spirit flings-
      That little time with lyre and rhyme
      To while away- forbidden things!
      My heart would feel to be a crime
      Unless it trembled with the strings.

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