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
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.
