the drunkeness of romance.

“Romance”



Edgar Allan Poe


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.


I adore this poem. The overdose of romance is written to stimulating perfection.