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.