Romance

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

Though 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.