As a child, the speaker knew Romance as a gentle, drowsy bird—a painted paroquet that taught him his first words while he lay in the wild wood. There’s a hushed, dreamy innocence in that memory, almost like a fairy tale. But adulthood brings a violent change. The years are now an “eternal Condor” whose wings shake the heavens with thunder, leaving no room for idle daydreams. The speaker admits he has no time for quiet reflection, even as he looks at the troubled sky. When a rare calm moment descends, he reaches for poetry—lyre and rhyme—yet it feels forbidden, almost criminal, unless his heart genuinely trembles along with the strings. The poem moves from wistful nostalgia into a tense, guilty mood, as if the act of writing must be earned through raw feeling. It captures the loss of childhood fancy and the heavy self-consciousness that can replace it.
Romance — Summary
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 Though 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.