The Indian Serenade – Percy Bysshe

I arise from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night,

When the winds are breathing low,

And the stars are shining bright.

I arise from dreams of thee,

And a spirit in my feet Has led me -who knows how?

To thy chamber-window, Sweet!

The wandering airs they faint

On the dark, the silent stream –

The champak odours fail Like sweet thoughts in a dream;

The nightingale’s complaint,

It dies upon her heart,

As I must die on thine,

O beloved as thou art!

Oh, lift me from the grass!

I die! I faint! I fail!

Let thy love in kisses rain

On my lips and eyelids pale.

My cheek is cold and white, alas!

My heart beats loud and fast;

Oh, press it close to thine again,

Where it will break at last! ~

The Indian Serenade – Percy Bysshe