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- 1829
- ROMANCE
- by Edgar Allan Poe
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- 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.
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- 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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- -THE END-
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