Text: Edgar Allan Poe, “Romance” (Text-06), 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 [Text-06]