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The Indian Serenade
I arise from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep or 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 odors 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! O, 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! Percy Bysshe Shelley Related Articles: The Lost Thrill The Nymph's Reply to the Shepherd The Passionate Shepherd to His Love The Ragged Wood There is a Lady Sweet and Kind The Rose in the Deeps of His Heart The Rose of Sharon To Amarantha  To our knowledge this poem is in the public domain. If you believe we have infringed any copyright laws please contact us and the offending material will be removed immediately.  The poetry on this site is for entertainment purposes only. See Full Disclaimer for more information. |
