Author: Edgar Allan Poe  | Date: 1829


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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Chicago: Edgar Allan Poe, Romance Original Sources, accessed June 24, 2024,

MLA: Poe, Edgar Allan. Romance, Original Sources. 24 Jun. 2024.

Harvard: Poe, EA, Romance. Original Sources, retrieved 24 June 2024, from