~The Indian Serenade~

~The Indian Serenade~

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 feetHas led me -who knows how?

To thy chamber-window, Sweet!

The wandering airs they faintOn 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!

Percy Bysshe Shelley

(1792-1827)

~Photo by Me~