Romance - Kathryn Grayson

Romance, a play boy who is born each spring

To teach the nightingale to sing

Romance, a legend on an old brocade,

A prince who tells a country maid: «I love you».

Now where this whimsy comes from, I don’t know;

For when it comes it’s just about to go.

Romance, a flower that will bloom awhile

With sunshine from a lover’s smile,

That lover’s tears bedew!

Ah!

Yet, when I seek this beauty,

Flower of youth’s first dawning,

I find a prosy work-a-day world

Stretching and yawning!

Love is locked up in cages,

Kept for a poet’s pages;

Life and adventure

Don’t seem to be paying attention to me!

And so I dream of fair Romance

And let my fancies weave pretty stories.

And tho' I know they are not so,

I like to go wand’ring amid their wistful glories.

My princes become what I mold them,

And they stay for the breath of a sigh!

I open my arms to enfold them,

And they’re gone like a breeze rushing by.

Ah, this is a humdrum world,

But when I dream I set it dancing.

When life is gray, I have a way to keep it gay,

Passing the time of day with love.