by Unknown
Apr 2011 374 Views 2 comments
Romance
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.
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.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Apr 2011
About this poem:
I normally don't have issues trying to decipher the words written by this great man, but this, this I don't get. Help?!Poems entered on these pages are copyrighted by the authors who entered them. They cannot be reproduced without the author's written consent. © Copyright 2001-2024. All rights reserved.
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Comments (2)
Very impressed
The second stanza (begins at 'Of late, eternal Condor years')
uses a more sombre language to describe what a person who has been hurt by love might feel like about it. There is no more fun and mystery but almost a dread and an avoidance of love.
This is one of those poems that different readers will see different things in and will debate on for hours. I would imagine if any one else drops by to discuss it they may or may not agree with what I see in it, but even if they agree they may see it for different reasons. Thanks for posting this lovely poem and asking a most interesting question too..