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Text: Edgar Allan Poe, "Romance" (F), Broadway Journal, August 30, 1845, 2:119, col. 2






[page 119. column 2, continued:]

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 Heavens 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!









Notes:

None.







 
[S:1 - BJ, 1845] - Edgar Allan Poe Society of Baltimore - Works - Poems - Romance (F)