Claude McKay’s “Romance” describes a lover imagining—or remembering—an intensely close embrace: head against chest, whispered names, teasing kisses, and murmured promises of love until the end of days. The speaker clearly feels desire and tenderness, but also something more complicated. Even as the two trade “love words” and vows, there is a quiet awareness that the scene is too perfect to last. The final lines admit, “We know it is not true,” yet insist that the sweetness still matters. The mood is intimate and dreamy, touched with bittersweet honesty. Rather than mourning the illusion, the speaker enjoys it for what it is—a beautiful moment, complete like a poem or a piece of music, even if it cannot survive the night.
Romance — Summary
To clasp you now and feel your head close-pressed, Scented and warm against my beating breast; To whisper soft and quivering your name, And drink the passion burning in your frame; To lie at full length, taut, with cheek to cheek, And tease your mouth with kisses till you speak Love words, mad words, dream words, sweet senseless words, Melodious like notes of mating birds; To hear you ask if I shall love always, And myself answer: Till the end of days; To feel your easeful sigh of happiness When on your trembling lips I murmur: Yes; It is so sweet. We know it is not true. What matters it? The night must shed her dew. We know it is not true, but it is sweet-- The poem with this music is complete.